


Thunderbolt Fantasy Xī Yōu: A Song of Swords

by saturnalius



Series: Xī Yōu Sword Indexing Stories [1]
Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Battle, Drama, Extreme Danger Bug, Prequel, Wuxia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 33,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnalius/pseuds/saturnalius
Summary: Following the events of "Bewitching Melody of the West", Làng travels with Shāng and Mù in Xī Yōu as they work to seal more swords in the Sorcerous Sword Index. Yet nothing is ever easy, is it? Everything goes awry when one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng's assassins claims a sword and becomes obsessed with Làng's voice. Can Làng's new-found resolve and friendship with Shāng survive the trials of an assassin as she threatens to destroy everything in the southern regions? Or will the assassin claim Làng for herself?
Series: Xī Yōu Sword Indexing Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814449
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6





	1. The Sorrowful Soul

**Author's Note:**

> All the names used here will be in Pinyin.

His soul had cried out for a song. He knew the power of his supernatural voice and the effects it had on people, yet they were deep in the woods at the moment, not a person outside their own group to hear it.

His voice rang out in the quiet forest, singing a sorrowful tune. It was one his mother had him play over and over again until he was beaten black and blue. Something about this song had sung to him that morning, though he was hardly feeling sorrowful. He had finally taken his life for himself, freed himself from being used by evil people, and taken a journey with the only two people who had ever shown him kindness. It was a dangerous path, but it was far better than the previous one.

Làng Wū Yáo heard the footsteps approach, plucking the last of the strings and cutting the song short.

“You didn’t have to stop singing that song, you know,” Shāng Bù Huàn admitted sheepishly. “We could’ve waited until you finished.”

“You aren’t exactly quiet when you walk!” Líng Yá teased. “We’d have to play much louder to drown you out!”

Làng placed a hand on the pipa, though he didn’t silence it. Shāng wasn’t exactly soft-footed. “There was an urgency in your steps,” Làng said, rising to his feet and turning to face his new companion.

“Ah well,” Shāng scratched at his cheek. “We’ve located a mystical sword in the closest town. Seems some imperial agent is trying to cause a ruckus with it to call in the imperial army.”

“Those bastards!” Líng Yá hissed. “I bet they just want an excuse to slaughter everyone!”

“That is definitely what it seems,” Mù Tiān Mìng agreed. “The town is mostly locals who don’t want to submit to the empire, though there are some Xī Yōu citizens in the town as well.”

“When did that ever matter to those imperial bastards?!” Líng Yá shouted.

Làng frowned just slightly. He’d seen the cruelty on both sides now, from his own experiences as the caged songbird in the royal court to the destruction by the mystical swords in the hands of the imperial court in the outside world.

“We should head out before the army is called in,” Shāng suggested.

“You know this could just be a trap!” Líng Yá pointed out.

“Between the three of us, I think we can handle them,” Shāng said reassuringly.

Líng Yá didn’t have a smart response to that one. They’d stomped the imperials into the ground before, leaving Xiào Kuáng Juàn screaming in anger as they left with the Index. A second time wouldn’t be a problem, even if they arrived first.

As Shāng turned, Mù placed a hand on Làng’s shoulder. “That song you sang was sorrowful, Wū Yáo. Are you alright?”

He looked up at her, a calm expression on his face with not a trace of sorrow. “A memory of a caged songbird,” he replied simply.

Mù Tiān Mìng patted him on the shoulder. “Hopefully not a reflection of the present.”

He placed a hand on Líng Yá before the pipa could answer for him, shaking his head before following Shāng through the forest.

…..

“There it is,” Mù announced as the town came into view. “Beyond those walls is the sword we need to retrieve before this gets worse.”

Làng closed his eyes, listening to the nearby sounds. There was a bustle of activity within the walls, a market of some sort but in chaos as people moved about erratically and violently. The movements sounded forced with the irregular steps.

Mù peered at Làng for a moment, noticing he was listening. His hearing was supernatural, much better than either of his two companions’. “Do you hear the guard already, Wū Yáo?” she questioned when he opened his eyes again.

He shook his head. “Something has affected the town already.”

“They’ve made their move,” Shāng frowned.

“So what does  _ this _ sword do anyway?” Líng Yá questioned.

“When a person is struck with the sword, it plants deep and dark desires in their hearts,” Mù explained. “We haven’t been able to figure out if they’re completely planted or were there the whole time, or if it simply flips their desires from yin to yang.”

Làng frowned. That explained the movements he’d heard.

“These people aren’t truly evil,” Shāng shook his head, “but they’ll likely act like it until they’re freed from the sword’s control.”

“These things are dangerous!” Líng Yá exclaimed. “Where do they keep coming from?!”

“Most are from the War of Fading Dusk. Some made to stop the demon realm, others probably from the demon realm. We think others may be older,” Shāng replied. “Either way, the Xī Yōu empire shouldn’t have them.”

Làng tapped his fingers quietly on the side of the pipa. The evil in the empire was much more deeply rooted than what that sadistic princess was capable of doing. The short time with Shāng and Mù was enough to tell him that. It bothered him how much they abused their own people, sacrificed them to gain power and control. It needed to be stopped.

“But not all hope is lost,” Shāng added. “If it’s anything like previous controlling swords we’ve encountered, it may be possible to free the people from control by knocking them out, striking them with the sword, or finding something more powerful.”

He glanced at Làng for a moment before turning back to the road leading into the town. There hadn’t been any sign of activity on it, no signs of anyone in or out for some time. Perhaps that meant they still had time to act before the imperial guard showed up. They still had Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins to contend with, but they would be harder to track. Làng seemed better at spotting them than either Shāng or Mù could.

“The sword is called the Sorrowful Soul,” Mù continued with the explanation. “Survivors from the previous town affected by this sword mentioned a song before everything went berserk.” She placed a hand on Làng’s shoulder. “Wū Yáo. Your voice might be able to overpower the effects of this sword.”

“And what if it doesn’t!?” Líng Yá protested.

“Then perhaps you can entrance them into not fighting one another,” Mù replied.

“Not everyone is affected by that song!” Líng Yá continued. “Like you two!”

“These are ordinary people,” Shāng replied this time. “They likely do not have trained qi.”

“This could still be a trap!” Líng Yá added

“We’re aware,” Shāng understood. “It’s just a distraction until we can seal the sword just like Tiān Mìng did at the palace.”

“This may not be an easy request,” Mù Tiān Mìng added sympathetically. “I know you are highly sensitive to evil and these people may very well feel that way under the sword’s spell. And then there’s the risk of your song if this takes longer than expected. If you don’t want to do this----”

Làng placed a hand on her shoulder, before emerging from the forest’s edge.

“You see, he’d already made up his mind!” Líng Yá shouted from Làng’s hands. “Just don’t go die or get possessed while he’s singing because he’d really really hate it if he had to fight against the only friends he haa--iiiiiyaaaaa!!!” The pipa cried out as Làng violently plucked the strings. “Okay okay! It’s time to sing!”

With that Làng could agree. His soul cried out for a song.


	2. Alluring notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan to retrieve the Sorrowful Soul is set in motion. Lang sings his song despite some reservations about his voice's power. Everything seems to be going well, but that's usually a bad sign...

Shāng Bù Huàn and Mù Tiān Mìng leapt onto the walls as Làng Wū Yáo entered the town through the main entrance on the well-traveled path. A humble market had been thrown into absolute chaos. Friend fought friend, brother against brother, parents against child. Pots were thrown and fresh food spilt on the ground.

“What a mess this is!” Líng Yá commented.

Làng felt that was a bit understated. He closed his eyes, briefly listening to the world around him. The movements were staggered and forced as before, reading malicious but not evil. The malice felt overwhelming, but these people were not to blame. They did not intend to do evil things, so they would not need to be justly killed. No, this was not their fault. He had to remind himself of that as the feeling threatened to overwhelm him.

Turning the knobs on the pipa, Làng pulled at the strings. The plucked notes quickly garnered the nearest people’s attention, and that was just enough to turn their false ire towards the sound.

Làng leapt backwards, quickly evading a thrown pot. He landed on the roof of a nearby stall. He plucked a few more notes before leaping up and landing on another stall to avoid a thrown bowl of noodles.

“What a waste of noodles!” Líng Yá scoffed.

Another bowl and pot avoided and Làng stood on the opposite roof from where he began. It was time to appease his heart’s desire. He opened his mouth, singing a favorite song as the enchanted tune rang out over the quarreling. He’d sung it many times, entertaining the taverns and the sadistic princess as he belted out the tune, fulfilling his desire to sing. He was being used back then, but it was the only life he’d come to know.

He knew now he was something more than just a sorcerous blade. Mù Tiān Mìng had told him that much and he believed it. Perhaps he had always believed it somehow and her words just stirred up what he’d already known.

" _ The land is cloaked in deepest blue! _

_ The shadow of eagles across the moon! _

_ Let all the pain and scars now fade away into the past! _ "

He leapt into the air avoiding another bowl, landing on the next rooftop. As the bowl struck the roof tiles, the crowd was beginning to simmer down. They released the robes and hair and weaponized chopsticks used against one another, turning to face Làng. It had been some time he’d sung for ordinary people. Not since he sang at the taverns who had used him to incite euphoria. He knew that now, probably at the time as well, but he didn’t have a strong resolve at the time.

Singing right here and now was different. He was using his supernatural voice for something that didn’t feel like a curse. He still had to be careful not to use it too much as it still could cause a lot of trouble. It had an addictive quality to it at times, sometimes worse. At least that seemed to be with the princess and the taverns, the former may have just been an obsession. Here, he simply wanted to break the sway of a sorcerous sword, then he’d stop before the people demanded more. It was a simple tune.

“That sword has tight control over them, doesn’t it?” Líng Yá observed.

Làng could feel it too, the maliciousness still threatening to overwhelm him. Slipping into a seated position, he shifted Líng Yá on his lap and twisted the knobs again. His heart cried out for peace, and the only way to do it was to sing. He had the strength to overpower some musical-based sorcerous sword spell. He was a musician and a blade after all.

  
  


The song carried over into the neighboring courtyard. Even the locals this far out were being attracted to the song, not making a move to attack Shāng or Mù as they stumbled towards the song.

“He certainly knows how to draw a crowd,” Shāng commented. It was that same enchanting effect he noted when invading the palace. Làng’s voice truly was something “This will make it easier with less innocent bystanders in the way.”

“We can’t take too long retrieving the sword,” Mù warned. “His voice tends to have an alluring, even addictive quality to it and I’d rather not enthrall the people here..”

Shāng had heard this before. Mù had spoken about Làng a number of times, a songbird in a seedy tavern. He was caged there in all but the environment. He came and went as he pleased, visiting Mù and singing with her several times, but each time, he always returned to the tavern. She could feel the power he had, the way he felt trapped by a curse and his situation but had no will to do anything about it. She knew of the voice he heard that turned out to be Líng Yá. Things were different then. Làng and Líng Yá we're now with them and no longer caged. Better for the both of them.

“This plan is pretty risky. Perhaps we shouldn’t have made the suggestion to do this given his hesitations with his voice,” Shāng frowned.

“He is his own person now,” Mù objected. “He wants to sing, just as I do, just that his voice makes that difficult.

Shāng frowned some more. “To want to sing but never be able to.”

“At least he can still sing around us when we’re traveling,” Mù said. “He has such a powerful voice, supernatural effects aside, that it would be a shame he went silent completely. At least he now has Líng Yá to help speak for him so he doesn’t have to worry so much.”

Shāng tried to imagine what it was like, not being able to sing or even talk when his heart cried out for a song. The closest thing he could think of was that Lang was suppressing his voice much like Shang suppressed his own qi. It was to control the effects it could have.

“And I get the feeling even if we hadn’t suggested it, he would’ve sung here even with his hesitations about his voice,” Mù added. “Líng Yá did say he’d already made up his mind.”

“One day I’ll figure him out,” Shāng said.

Mù laughed. “In time. It is a bit harder now that he doesn’t speak as much anymore. But even back then, he had a subtlety about his movements likely from having to bottle everything up inside. I’d imagine even having Líng Yá able to speak for him from now, Wū Yáo would still speak his mind.”

With Líng Yá now at his side, Làng no longer had to worry that his voice would cause trouble. The pipa could speak for him, and that pipa liked to talk  _ a lot _ . But Mù could still pick up quite a bit from Làng with his subtle expressions and movements. Placing a hand on her shoulder, the soft smiles and frowns, that his face wasn’t always in a concerned, trapped knot like it had once been.

“Hopefully he knows that he can always talk around us,” Shāng said.

Mù nodded. “I’m sure he does.”

Before he’d gained his own resolve, Làng had opened up to her. He still had a bit of awkwardness to him as he adjusted to a new style of life. He no longer let people walk all over him, but he was still attempting to understand this newfound resolve budding within him. Having friends also complicated things as he just wasn’t used to trusting people. Shāng was still a new addition to his very small circle, but Làng could tell that Shāng was a good and trustworthy person with his strong sense of good and evil. They were just a bit awkward around each other, but they had to get to know and understand one another better.

“We have company,” Shāng warned.

“I noticed,” Mù admitted.

Several imperial soldiers stepped out from the shadows within the stalls. Just a handful but thankfully no sign of the Hunting Fox yet.

“It’s the Sword-plundering Nemesis!” one of the soldiers shouted.

Shāng frowned, wrapping a hand around his sword’s hilt. “No time for talk, right to the point and ready to throw their lives away.”

“Did you expect anything less from Xī Yōu imperials?” Mù shook her head. She pulled the guqin from its resting place on her back, pulling the strings and sending soundwaves at several of the soldiers. The impact knocked them backward into an empty stall, sending wood flying in all directions.

Shāng sighed, pulling the sword from its sheath, the blast of qi kicking up dirt and dust nearby. He’d made himself the enemy of the imperial court, so what  _ did  _ he expect? They saw him as the villain, someone countering a cruel and heartless empire that wished to subjugate its people and turn sorcerous blades against them.

What was he supposed to do? Sit back and watch his own people get murdered? That idea didn’t sit right with him at all. This was the only path that felt right, and now with the Sorcerous Sword Index, he could keep those blades away from the imperial sadists and hopefully find a way to dispose of them  _ properly _ . 

Right now, they had to get rid of these imperial lackeys and find the Sorrowful Soul before their new ally ran out of song material. Figuratively. He would need to stop sooner rather than later to prevent the sorcerous effects from setting in on those who heard his songs.

A quick slash of the sword and Shāng’s qi extended past the wooden blade, slicing into the soldiers and shattering the bamboo fencing behind them. All the soldiers had quickly fallen. There weren’t exactly many of them in this tiny assault.

Mù plucked a few notes on her guqin. That was uneventful, but perhaps for the better as their goal wasn’t to squash the imperial soldiers. It was to find that sword before more people died. As the battlefield quieted, she could still hear Làng’s voice ring out in the town but something more distant caught her trained ears. “A battle horn.”

Shāng pursed his lips as he sheathed his sword. “I thought we would have more time.”

“Seems these were just advanced scouts.” She placed the guqin back on her back, shaking her head. “Wū Yáo can certainly handle a fight against them, but I’d rather retrieve this sword and fight them on our terms, together.”

“And they’d be after me more than they would the people here,” Shāng understood. “Though knowing the empire, they’d probably slaughter the whole town anyway.”

“They might be after Wū Yáo to some extent,” Mù frowned. “He is the escaped songbird that bit his master’s hand. For the better. No one should live like that.” She headed out of the courtyard with a sense of urgency.

“Agreed.” Shāng followed her towards the largest building in the town. He had only known Làng for a short time at that point, but even he could see the sorrow in the musician’s eyes at the time they first met. It was different now, fortunately. That sorrow was gone.

The pair met no resistance on their way to the building, discovering a rather gruesome scene inside. The imperial had been slain, driven through by a sword that was then mercilessly ripped out afterward. He was hunched over the table, a single silver sword tightly in his dead grasp. Blood spattered the walls, chairs overturned and scrolls sliced and scattered on the floor.

“Someone got to him first,” Mù observed. “Could that truly be the mystic sword left behind?”

“I can just hear it, Líng Yá shouting ‘trap’ right now,” Shāng said.

She turned, searching for anything that didn’t belong, particularly bugs. “I don’t see signs of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s agents anywhere. But if not them or the imperials, who did this?”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Shāng agreed as he pried the silver sword from the dead man’s grasp. He turned it over in his hand a few times. It looked like an ordinary sword and these mystic swords liked to be fancy and over the top. No beads, no ornate and intricate designs, no unusual shapes, not oversized either. “Ordinary. There is no magic in this.” He turned, finding Mù staring at the doorway. “Someone else has the sword.”

“Bù Huàn.” She continued to stare past the courtyard. “Wū Yáo has suddenly stopped singing.”

Something was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pili website notes that Lang does not communicate emotions much at all, mostly expressing himself through song and through Ling Ya blabbing too much. In Season 2, Shang can interpret this pretty well, mostly. He still is off sometimes, but for the most part, he can understand Lang and his more subtle movements.
> 
> But this is young Shang, his friendship with Lang is very new. Mu knows Lang better, but I don't think either has had enough time to fully understand how Lang communicates now that he's stopped talking. Not that Lang really showed his emotions before that point save some subtle movements.
> 
> I imagine that Shang does really concern himself for Lang's wellbeing in these early years. He does in the movie, and now that Lang is with him, that concern is probably every day. And now that Lang has suddenly stopped singing, that concern is probably hitting him hard. I wonder what Lang has encountered on the other side of town. Hm.


	3. Cacophonous battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Shang and Mu find that the Sorrowful Soul has already been swiped, Lang continues to attempt to overpower a sword with his own supernatural power. But there is someone lurking in the crowd, someone with malicious intent. And it doesn't seem to be the imperials!

“There’s something very evil here!” Líng Yá warned.

Like he hadn’t noticed. Làng Wū Yáo continued his song. The malice had not yet subsided, indicating that the sword’s thrall had not yet been broken. He was growing more concerned that the people would become enthralled to the supernatural power of his voice the longer he continued on. These were ordinary people, just as Shāng had said. They wouldn’t be able to resist the power as his companions did. It would cause more trouble than he really wanted for them and for himself.

Perhaps he could continue the song later and appease his desires, but right now he had to figure out how to handle the situation. To stop too early would resume the fighting, and the people would simply slaughter one another in false anger. But to continue on could result in an addiction and obsession and could harm otherwise good people.

But something worse still was here. Someone was hiding among them, someone with true evil residing within their hearts. It didn’t feel like the Princess of Cruelty, and the Hunting Fox wasn’t exactly known for his ability to hide. Someone else was here, someone sinister.

His sensitive hearing picked up on a horn in the distance. A hunting horn, he surmised. It was the only thing that would make such a cacophonous sound. It served no other purpose. Shāng had been certain they had more time, but given the ploy to bring the might of the empire down onto the town, they probably were headed here at a scheduled time or arriving early to catch Shāng in the act. They certainly weren’t quiet about their arrival either way.

But if the imperials were out there, who was  _ here _ ?

Huò Shì Míng Huáng. That was the only thing that came to mind. Mystical assassins, Mù Tien Ming had explained. They were associated with bugs and actually _ used _ bugs too. That much he knew after the Princess of Cruelty tried to trick Shāng into eating scorpions. What a terrible trick, replacing food with poison.

Làng closed his eyes for a moment, letting his hearing do the investigation. There was someone hiding among the people. He pulled at the pipa strings, sending a shockwave over the enthralled crowd towards the one in the back. She lept backward, her disguise as an ordinary citizen falling off. She had dark hair pulled upward and wrapped around two peculiar golden balls. Her bodice was golden and brown, resembling an insect’s exoskeleton with a cloak of lace, sequins, and glitter resembling bedazzled insect wings. She held in her hand a blade that looked like it was several strands of silver braided together and sharpened to a deadly point.

“And here I was just enjoying the show!” she proclaimed.

“You don’t look like an imperial bastard!” Líng Yá pointed out crudely.

“How rude!” she accused the pipa. “I am Yīn Xiàtiān of the Huò Shì Míng Huáng! I already have what I came for, but you, bard. You are quite intriguing. Oh what could I do to make that song mine?”

Làng wrinkled his nose. Every place he went, there was someone after his song. Mù and Shāng were the only ones who were different.

“Screw off, you insect weirdo!” Líng Yá hissed.

Làng didn’t particularly care for her introduction, nor did he offer his. He was more focused on what she had in her hand. The musician had seen the Index before and the drawings within them when Shāng talked about the dangers they possessed. He’d seen the ridiculously large sword that Shāng had stolen from the palace in action. These sorcerous swords were always ornate and pointlessly decorative, but their purpose wasn’t the usual swords of man. They had wild and powerful purposes that ordinary swords did not. They also possessed a great deal of supernatural power, something that Làng also possessed.

Yīn didn’t take kindly to the comment. “Why don’t you just sing your song for me and leave that rude pipa behind, my dear bard?”

“I am not yours.” With a quick pluck of the strings, Làng flung a sonic attack at the woman. If he let her go, she would easily cause destruction in her wake. He had to get that sword at the very least, and he’d pry it from her dead hands if he had to.

She leapt out of the way, landing on the market stall still covered from the noodle bowl earlier. “Singing and fighting? You sure are a marvel, Bard.”

He wanted to stop singing just to spite her, but if he did, the people still enthralled might start killing each other. Or trying to. They weren’t very good at it. Perhaps if he knocked the sword from her hand.

A few more sonic attacks sent her leaping from stall to stall. Her movements were easy to follow, accompanied by a strange buzz. Perhaps her robes were strange, but perhaps it was whatever bug she was associated with. She hadn’t yet revealed that, nor could Làng pick up on a large number of insects nearby. Legs and wings weren’t always known to be quiet, especially to a finely tuned sense of hearing like his was.

As he forced her to leap again, he quickly shifted, aiming for where she was landing instead of where she once was. Had she not moved more quickly, the attack might’ve taken her arm off. Instead the force caused the sword to drop from her hand for a moment.

Làng sang the final note as the malice of those gathered quickly washed away. It was like Shāng had said. They were all being controlled by the sword, and that sword was now being scooped up by Yīn. The malice didn’t return to the crowd as it scattered.

“She’s focused right on you,” Líng Yá would’ve wrinkled his nose in annoyance if he had one.

Like he hadn’t noticed. She was watching him like that sadistic princess once did, like a cat waiting to pounce on a songbird. But this songbird was also a sharpened blade. He used Líng Yá to deflect several sword swipes sent his way but something else was there. Something buzzing. It felt like something was pulling his qi from him. He could feel it in his knees as he attempted to stabilize himself on the hut’s roof.

“Move!” Líng Yá shouted suddenly.

Làng leapt to the side, dodging some sort of swarm of insects buzzing past him. He’d heard the sounds before after leaving the mountains. They only arrived in the summertime, singing a sweet buzzing song in the warmer months.

Cicadas.

But their song was hardly sweet or heralding the warmer weather of summer. They sang a horribly cacophonous too, one that seemed to linger even after they had buzzed past him.

Làng reached up to the side of his face, feeling a sharp pain around his ear. The noise wasn’t stopping, instead only getting louder. He stared at his hand, feeling something on it as he brushed his face. Blood? His ear was bleeding. Why was this buzzing so loud? His hearing was sensitive but not that sensitive. He could handle quite a bit of noise, able to hear all the minute details of a battlefield down to the swishing of grass blades and the breathing of his enemy. But even when a battle got loud or he was singing and fighting, his ears had never bled before. Something was wrong.

He dropped the pipa from his arms, placing a hand on Líng Yá’s head. He could feel the weakness threaten to take his knees out from underneath him, but he was still capable of fighting. He considered for a moment to flee, but leaving an evil like that with a sword like the Sorrowful Soul would be bad news for them all. He’d have to make this quick. “Guide my movements.”

The pipa understood, feeling everything as an extension of Làng and the ringing pain he now felt buzzing around inside his head. There was a sluggishness to his movements, telling him of the urgency of this battle. “You got it! Líng Yá, transform!”

Làng could barely hear Líng Yá now, but he could feel the pipa directing his movements from their close link. They fought off the swarm using the supernatural music they both possessed. The swarm that had encircled them quickly fell dead to the ground. But that buzzing didn’t get any quieter. It felt like the sound was boring into his head. He had to get rid of it. He had to stop the noise that felt like it could cause his head to shake apart.

His ear was bleeding more. He could feel the blood drip down the side of his face. He wiped it off with his sleeve, taking another broad swing at the insects swarming around him. His vision felt fuzzy. His leg felt numb. Everything felt off. 

He tossed Líng Yá into the air, transforming him back to pipa form. Taking to a knee, he fired off several sharp sonic attacks. He had to stabilize himself somehow until he took her down. Then he could deal with this noise. He couldn’t hear her anymore, using Líng Yá to guide his attacks as his vision grew as fuzzy as his hearing. To think a supernatural blade would be stunted by a buzzing noise.

His other leg began to feel numb. A poison, perhaps? Poisons weren’t exactly noisy, but his knowledge on the subject was limited. There were certain agents that could be used to alter the mind, much like the euphoric agent they used to get high off Làng’s voice in the taverns. Yet that would require some kind of contact and no one had touched him since he entered the town. Even the cicadas that buzzed past him hadn’t touched him but the feeling started before then.

Was it perhaps the sword? No the Sorrowful Soul was associated with a noise but it also caused malice. Perhaps this was how one was overcome by the sword’s spell. He didn’t like the idea of turning against his new-found friends, especially when the feeling wasn’t his own.

Làng felt his legs give out as the buzzing noise became unbearable. He tumbled off the roof, landing hard on the ground. Làng grasped for the pipa, gripping the neck tightly as he curled up into a ball, grasping at his ear with the other.

It had to stop. The noise was doing this to him. What was it? Why was it so loud?

“Làng, stay with me!” Líng Yá shouted, knowing full well that Làng couldn’t hear him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the danger bug finally appears and her attack has some terrible effects on poor Làng's hearing! The question is, how did she do it and will Làng now become someone else's bard? Seriously stop going after his songs!
> 
> Yīn Xiàtiān literally means the sound of the summer season, and in warmer areas, cicadas are definitely those sounds! They pretty much scream all of summer. You can hear them in anime a lot. Not sure if Xi You has cicadas normally, but they do now.


	4. Obsessive desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Làng has stopped singing, his hearing now threatened as he'd fallen off the roof. The sound of imperial horns in the distance presses them for time. Will Yīn manage to steal Làng away or will Mù and Shāng be able to get there in time?

“Wū Yáo has suddenly stopped singing.”

The pair stared down the courtyard back towards the markets where Làng Wū Yáo was once singing to counteract the sorcerous blade’s power. They didn’t have the Sorrowful Soul in their possession, but someone  _ did _ . It was possible Làng had claimed the blade for himself from whoever had stolen it, but something told the both of them that wasn’t the case.

“Someone else is there,” Mù Tien Ming observed.

“Likely one with the sword,” Shāng Bù Huàn agreed. The sound of the horn earlier indicated the imperial troops were still some ways away. Still there was no less a sense of urgency. If Làng had become injured, he would have no way to fend off imperial forces alone and that simply wouldn’t do.

They dashed forward, out of the building and through the courtyard. Quickly they were greeted by the noisy sound of cicadas attempting to flush them out of the pathway. Hundreds upon hundreds buzzed like a noisy barricade attempting to hald their advances.

“You will not have him!” an unfamiliar voice on the other side of the wall declared. “This bard is mine!”

Something  _ was  _ wrong. The voice was unknown and there were no sounds of fighting. Mù had barely heard the voice of the pipa screeching about something or someone, but still no sounds of music or sonic blasts. Pulling the guqin off her back, Mù blasted through the cicadas and pushed her way into the marketplace, Shāng managing to dive through before the wall closed up again. The townsfolk had cleared out of the way but Làng himself lay curled up on his side with Líng Yá tucked under his arm and pain etched across what little was visible of his face.

“Like hell he’s yours, you buggy bitch!” Líng Yá screeched as Yīn Xiàtiān approached the fallen musician.

“No one needs a noisy instrument like you!” the cicada lady hissed, stabbing her heel into the pipa then moving to swiftly kick Líng Yá far across the courtyard.

Shāng leapt forward, catching Líng Yá before being pushed backwards by another swarm of cicadas. “Who is that? What happened in the last few moments?”

“That insect bitch did something to Làng!” Líng Yá explained poorly. “Something buzzed in his head and he couldn’t hear anymore!”

“With his acute hearing, that must’ve been unbearable.” Mù frowned. “She must be one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s minions. But to overpower Wū Yáo that much?”

“He kept thinking  _ It’s loud! It’s inside my head! _ like he had a bug in his head!” Líng Yá seethed. “That cicada freak did something to him! His knees went weak and he fell off the roof!”

“I didn’t expect the insect assassins to be that precise so fast, but perhaps it was simply a lucky shot,” Shāng frowned.

“Lucky or not, she wants to cage him up! Like hell I’ll let her do that!” the pipa hissed. 

“And neither will we.” Shāng placed the pipa on his back. He had seen that forlorn expression Làng once wore. He wore it after they took him to the southern reaches on their journey and even after that as he’d left to stay in the mountains. The musician no longer had that look, now able to live his own life and travel with them. And some Huò Shì Míng Huáng lackey was now threatening to take that away.

Shāng couldn’t always understand what Làng was thinking, but he was absolutely certain being caged up and forced to sing for another evil woman was not on Làng’s to-do list.

He glanced at Mù. “If she likes songs, think you can distract her?”

“Definitely,” Mù nodded, leaping to the side and running along the town wall. Pulling the strings of her guqin, she flung several sonic attacks to defeat the cicadas threatening to swarm her. The bug lady hadn’t yet fled with Làng. He was still laying on the ground as she took her time to admire him while her bugs did all the work.

Mù shuddered. This was beyond the enthralling effect Làng’s voice had. This was pure obsession. She didn’t want to think what Yīn would actually do to him if they let her kidnap him.

But even worse, Yīn held an unusual sword in her hand. The Sorrowful Soul, Mù reasoned. There was a chance she would use the sword on Làng as well. She wouldn’t put it past one of those bug assassins to do something low like that, especially one who had become so obsessed.

Mù pulled the strings, flinging sonic attacks at the creepy bug lady and pushing her away from Làng. The redhead had moved only slightly, just enough to curl a hand over his ear as blood trickled down his cheek. Whatever was affecting him was still doing so and badly. They had to treat him before he lost his hearing permanently.

Between the approaching imperial army and now an obsessive cicada assassin and Làng’s bleeding ear, the situation really had turned for the worst. But when was anything easy when collecting sorcerous weapons and keeping them away from assassins and a sadistic imperial army?

“I will make him  _ mine _ !” Yīn declared as she landed on the nearby stall. Drawing the Sorrowful Soul over her shoulder, she slashed an attack towards Làng, frowning as the musician suddenly rolled away.

He barely felt alive, the noise ringing incessantly in his head as he forcefully willed himself to move. He couldn’t  _ hear  _ a thing but he could still  _ see _ it in a way. He had his hand on the ground, feeling the vibrations around him. It was hardly as detailed as the usual way he understood the world, but it was still sufficient enough.

On the buildings to his left stood Mù, her stance poised for battle.

On the right was Yīn still holding the sorcerous sword. Her stance read unnerved now that she was faced with two other people.

Behind him was Shāng. Something said that he had Líng Yá now that the musician couldn’t find the pipa.

But something in the distance troubled him. It was noisy, the sound of many feet urgently rushing towards the town. Imperials. He’d heard the horn before his hearing became affected. They were certainly closing in fast, but there were now signs of battle within the town’s walls. They likely had picked up their pace to catch the villain in the act, or so the Hunting Fox would say.

Làng attempted to push himself up but his balance was completely shot. There was something in his ear, and his legs still felt weak. That had to be where the noise was coming from, inside his ear. Just what did the cicada assassin do to him without him even noticing? She had been in the crowd for some time while Làng sorted out the real malice from the enthralled. There was a possibility something landed on him when he was dodging thrown bowls and pots.

Mù landed next to him, placing a hand on his back as he collapsed back to the ground. She knew he couldn’t hear her right now, but a gentle hand would be enough to tell him that he wasn’t alone. He likely had already heard her approach given that he was still semiconscious with a hand pressed against the ground.

Yīn flung several attacks at Mù, even with her next to Làng. Crouched down beside him, she used the guqin to deflect the attacks from the Sorrowful Soul and protect them both. They still weren’t completely sure how that sword affected people. Làng could have darkness filling his heart if he were hit, not that he’d be able to do anything about it with the buzzing in his ears.

Làng grasped the edge of Mù’s robe tightly as he clasped a hand over his ear with the other. It was unbearably painful and he could still feel the blood trickle down his face. With the dizzying effects and that weakness in his lower body, he found himself barely able to channel qi to heal his ear. The world felt sideways, and he felt like he’d expended an excessive amount of qi somehow. Why was it getting louder? What  _ was _ this thing?! He grasped his ear tightly. He had to do something to make this stop but how?

“A musician greatly values his hearing,” Mù pointedly informed Yīn. “You’re taking his song away from him.”

Yīn laughed shrilly. “I could take the noise away at any time, if he’d just agree to sing for me alone! But if he doesn’t, then he’ll hear the buzzing until he does!”

“Everyone should be allowed to hear a beautiful song!” Mù jabbed a finger at Yīn. Not that she was certain Làng could sing for anyone but their small group now. She didn’t have to mention that part.

Even when they had first met and Làng was still singing at the taverns, when they sang together, Làng looked so peaceful. But the moment he stopped, his face had twisted into that forlorn knot he tried to hide behind his hair. He was miserable, music the only way he could express what he was feeling deep inside. Music was everything to Làng, and there was no way Mù would allow some assassin to take that away from him.

Mù pulled the guqin strings, deflecting the attacks as Yīn angrily attempted to attack them both with the Sorrowful Soul. Mù wasn’t there to attack offensively. She was the distraction. The offensive was now approaching from behind, wooden sword drawn as he swung it widely.

Yīn barely heard the approach in her obsessive ire, leaping to the next roof as she pulled a wall of cicadas in front of her as a defense. Another attack came from Mù this time, threatening to knock Yīn off the roof. She seethed. These two were a thorn in her side, keeping her from her red singing treasure.

“Sword-plundering Nemesiiiiis!”

Shāng frowned sharply. More trouble. They must’ve spotted him from the roofs, approaching faster than expected. But when a sorcerous sword was involved, that Hunting Fox was sure to follow especially when said sword was a plant to commit war crimes. He could just hear Líng Yá shouting about this being a trap. Well it  _ would _ ’ve been a simple task if Yīn Xiàtiān hadn’t shown up. That assassin sure had mucked up the entire thing.

Yīn took the distraction as an opportunity to quickly shadow step away, over the wall, and disappear into the woods with one of her prizes in her hands. She would return for the songbird later.

Shāng scoffed. Had the situation been different, he would’ve pursued Yīn but there were more important things at hand. More important  _ people _ . He leapt off the building, handing Líng Yá to Mù. “We need to retreat.”

Mù nodded, taking Líng Yá into her arms after slinging her guqin over her back. Retrieving the sword was important but leaving Làng behind was unacceptable.

Shāng carefully hoisted Làng over his shoulder, feeling the musician quickly grip his robes. Làng was in terrible pain. They had to treat this quickly else he might not survive.

“Stop right there, Shāng Bù Huàn!” the Hunting Fox pointed accusingly at him. “Return the swords and the musician you stole!”

“Neither is your property!” Shāng shouted over his shoulder.

“Like we’ll ever surrender to you, you smug ass bastard!” Líng Yá jeered.

Shāng and Mù leapt into the air, the latter turning and firing off several sonic bursts using Líng Yáo as the medium. The attack kicked up dust and flung the fallen noodle bowls at the imperial soldiers who attempted to follow them as they disappeared over the wall and into the forest just beyond.

“Damn you, Shāng Bù Huàn!!!” Xiào Kuáng Juàn screeched, gritting his teeth. “Search every inch of that forest! Find them!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something is up with those cicadas. Hopefully Làng's hearing will be okay!


	5. Lumpy Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shang may be a good fighter, but he is definitely not a good cook.

Làng Wū Yáo stirred. His ear was ringing but there wasn’t a buzzing or a pain anymore. He could feel his feet again and his legs no longer felt like overcooked noodles. He felt the hard forest ground beneath him as well as the soft cloak thrown over him. A fire crackled nearby. Crickets chirped and a stream babbled somewhere off in the distance. He could feel Líng Yá wrapped in his arms.

He attempted to sit up, finding his strength had returned to him thanks to some healing qi. Perhaps it was the lack of buzzing that helped. Probably both. He placed Líng Yá in his lap, finding his treasured pipa undamaged from the ordeal.

“Ah good, you’re up. How is your ear?”

Làng had heard Shāng Bù Huàn speak but the words felt somewhat muddied. The other man was sitting at the nearby fire, preparing some sort of dinner. Mù Tiān Mìng was sitting opposite Làng at the fire, gently plucking at the guqin’s strings. He could feel the music, but hearing it was a bit more difficult.

“He can hear you! Though the words are cloudy,” Líng Yá replied for Làng.

Shāng pursed his lips together. “It took awhile before we were able to treat the noise. Xiào Kuáng Juàn pursued us well into the forest before we finally lost him. I’m just glad you can hear again.” He wasn’t sure if Làng  _ could  _ lose his hearing.

“Man, that fox bastard sure messed things up!” Líng Yá commented. “Then again, when doesn’t he? He’s always been that way, that conniving manipulative ass!”

“That fight would’ve gone very differently had he not shown up,” Shāng frowned, grabbing a wooden bowl from the pile. Leaning over, he spooned some soup out of the pot hanging over the fire. “The Sorrowful Soul would be sealed, your hearing would be back, and we likely would be one less insect assassin.”

Làng placed a hand over his ear. It wasn’t bleeding anymore at least, even if everything felt fuzzy on that side. The other one was still fine but it was throwing everything off. He blasted some qi into it before wrinkling his nose and shaking his head.

“I’d imagine that with your supernatural abilities, that ear will heal itself pretty fast,” Shāng reasoned. Not that he really understood how Làng’s abilities actually worked. He’d never met someone equivalent of a supernatural sword before. It was mostly a guess at this point. A hopeful guess.

Làng couldn’t deny it was a good assumption. He’d never lost his hearing before, but he had lost his voice once and that did come back. It was changed, cursed even, but it did come back.

“That bug probably didn’t help!” Líng Yá fussed. “To think that cicada weirdo managed to get a magic bug that deep in his ear! Gross! No wonder that noise was so loud!”

Làng frowned slightly. So that was the origin of the painful noise. He played the whole encounter back in his mind. Not once could he figure out when the bug managed to crawl into his ear without noticing. Perhaps on him was one thing with how long Yīn had likely been in that crowd. But to get into his ear? He nearly shuddered at the thought.

Summer cicadas would be singing soon with the warmer weather now approaching. Perhaps he misjudged what the noise was he’d heard. He was accustomed to fighting imperial lackeys while singing at the same time or training with the bell sword with his mother when he was younger. Fighting a magical insect assassin was different, but that ‘different’ likely would be more common now that he was traveling with Shāng and Mù. Their task, now his too, to collect the sorcerous swords would likely attract this sort more and more. It was a very different path, one he never would’ve thought he would take only a few months ago. A lot had happened lately.

“This guy is now pissed that he got bested by a damn cicada!” Líng Yá fussed.

Làng reached for the pipa’s strings but he stopped, resting his hand on the side of the instrument. Líng Yá wasn’t wrong. He  _ was  _ upset that something so simple took him down. His hearing was so honed, his battle skills sharpened as a living sorcerous blade. The idea of being taken down by a bug didn’t sit well with him. Even if it was a magical assassin bug.

“We all have our troubles, you know,” Shāng said. “Your hearing is sensitive and that assassin took advantage of it. For me? I don’t always see through illusions. I almost ate a plate of scorpions!”

Làng’s expression softened. That had been their first meal together after the battle with the Hunting Fox and Làng had declared he would be his own person, no longer being used by others as their singing blade. The musician had realized the scorpions were disguised and that Xiē Yīngluò was there, but the other two had not. Shāng  _ would  _ have eaten a plate of scorpions had Làng not stopped him.

“We’ll just have to rely on each other with this one. I imagine this Yīn Xiàtiān will cause us a bit of trouble when she shows back up.” Shāng handed a bowl to Làng. “Here. It’s not the best but it is soup.”

Làng stared at the bowl in his hands. It certainly didn’t  _ look  _ the best but it smelled good. His stomach reminded him it had been awhile since his last meal. He could appreciate the effort. Shāng was definitely trying to take care of him. It was a strange thought. People helping him out. He still wasn’t used to it.

Líng Yá shifted to Làng’s back. “That crazy cicada bitch will be back, you know! She wants this guy’s voice to be hers!”

Làng wrinkled his nose, partially from the soup, partially from the obsessive words Yīn had said to him. “I am no one’s caged songbird. Not anymore.”

“Of course not, man!” Líng Yá confirmed. “You didn’t go through all that garbage only to end up back  _ in _ that garbage again! I bet that cicada weirdo is as a bad as that sadistic princess or even-----”

Làng cut the pipa off by reaching over his shoulder and flicking him in the face. The musician turned back to his lumpy soup. For a traveler, Shāng certainly didn’t know how to cook but eating at a restaurant was probably not an option with the Hunting Fox nipping at their heels.

Líng Yá fussed. “Fine, fine!”

The pipa wasn’t wrong about the garbage he’d been through. Líng Yá was only reflecting Làng’s inner thoughts loudly, but that didn’t mean the musician wanted to talk about how he felt. He glanced at his companions. They weren’t asking questions about what Líng Yá had said.

The silence that followed felt awkward. Shāng was trying hard to be Làng’s friend and the musician just kept clamming up about everything. Làng didn’t talk about himself. That was how it was  _ supposed  _ to be. Or so he’d been told over and over again. He was a blade, nothing more. He’d had his opinions, but he often kept them to himself as they could easily cause him trouble. Ever since he decided to take his own path, things felt different and weird, opposite of everything he was used to. He still wasn’t sure how to handle all this.

He stared at the soup bowl filled with lumpy soup that Shāng had made for all of them, for him too. He was part of their group, with friends and not someone who wanted to make him their blade. He could feel that from them very clearly even if the words were unspoken. They weren’t like the Hunting Fox or the princess or the tavern owner.

“My whole life, I’ve been a caged songbird,” Làng suddenly confessed, almost surprised that the words spilled out of his own mouth instead of Líng Yá’s. Perhaps it was the soup that was making him actually talkative now.

Shāng nearly dropped the soup bowl, not expecting Làng to actually speak about himself nor the actual words he spoke. “Your whole life?”

“My mother raised me to be a sorcerous blade much like those in your Index, one who could be used in song and combat. She told me that the only way to protect a voice like mine was to become a songbird, an imperial treasure,” Làng frowned. He couldn’t recall a time when his mother hadn’t harshly trained him. It was always that way and probably would have continued had his own voice not driven her off the cliff. His voice caused him so much trouble, and he had no way to truly control it other than to not speak unless necessary. “I should not have desires of my own, only letting those stronger tell me what was right.”

Shāng knit his brow. Làng had never understood his own desires until that day he awoke Líng Yá, had he? “You know that’s not true, right? You are a person with your own desires and a will and a soul, not someone to be constantly used.”

“I do now,” Làng admitted.

“Even though I may have called you a blade as well,” Shāng sheepishly admitted.

“You were not wrong.” Làng glanced up from his bowl at Shāng who busied himself with scratching at the side of his face. “A sorcerous blade who may have remained sealed within the mountains had Tiān Mìng not found me.”

She smiled softly across the fire. “I felt bad about the situation. You finally had freed yourself from being used only to retreat into solitude. I had to speak my mind.”

“I felt bad about what I’d said, but didn’t know how to express it,” Shāng admitted. Mù nodded in agreement. “You are a blade with a soul, one that can’t just stop using sorcerous power. I had said too much, and I wasn’t sure you’d even listen even if Tiān Mìng went to speak with you. I’m full glad you did come back down from those mountains. Being sealed away like that isn’t where you belong.”

Làng stared at the nearly empty bowl of lumpy soup. He really wasn’t accustomed to people caring for him like this. His mother cared but she also wanted to use him like a singing blade. She wanted him to be part of the imperial court where his voice would be protected, but in truth, it was anything but that. “Everything changed when I met you both.” Everyone else wanted to use him to advance their position or for their entertainment. The Hunting Fox got a promotion, the tavern made a fortune off him, and the princess used him for entertainment. He had met Mù some time before, but his mind couldn’t realize that way of life wasn’t the only way, that he could be his own blade instead of anyone else’s.

“You’re going to make him embarrassed with all this talk!” Líng Yá commented, only to be flicked in the face again.

Shāng laughed. “I guess we’re both bad at talking about things like this, aren’t we?”

“You both got that in common, man!” Líng Yá mused.

A soft smile crossed the musician’s lips before he hid it behind the bowl of soup. He downed the last of it, wrinkling his nose at how bitter it was. How was soup even bitter? It was filling and satisfying at the very least. As he set the bowl down, something caught his attention. Footsteps crunching on leaves.

“Aaah! We’ve been found!” Líng Yá shouted. “Damn imperial bastards interrupting our meal!”

Làng frowned. He shouldn’t have opened his mouth to speak. It always caused trouble, though it did feel nice to get those bottled up feelings out. He certainly wasn’t going to make a habit of it, but a little bit for someone who was attempting to be his friend wouldn’t hurt. He really wasn’t good at this friendship thing just yet, but he’d managed to befriend Mù. He could befriend Shāng too, and that man was really trying to understand Làng in return. Not that Làng was exactly making it easy. Perhaps he could try to reach out a little more. Just not right now with the imperial search parties trying to interrupt dinner.

“Man, they are persistent,” Shāng frowned, throwing a bucket of water on the fire. “We should retreat before they find us.”

“Retreat?!” Líng Yá hissed. “We can take them on without that buzzing!”

“We need your ear to heal  _ first _ ,” Mù pointed out.

Làng frowned. While he could still fight in this state, he had to admit his balance was just slightly sideways with his hearing still off on one side. It wouldn’t exactly make for a  _ good _ fight. Slinging Líng Yá on his back, he snagged the cloak he was sleeping on and followed the other two through the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lang and Shang have a sort of intrinsic understanding of each other in Season 2 but at the end of the movie, they really do not communicate well at all. Lang is definitely not one to talk about himself much at all, and on top of that, he's also trying to understand friends and desires and will would not be easy. And Shang, on the other hand, has never met someone quite like Lang. Mu is sort of an intermediary between the pair, but that only works so well.
> 
> But they're trying. They're trying to understand each other in and out of combat and as friends. Let's hope it goes well for them.


	6. Musical dumplings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing the imperial hunting parties in the forest, Shāng, Mù, and Làng gather some funds and information. But have they truly lost their assailants?

Music rang out across the plaza in the town as the two bards plucked at their instruments. They quickly garnered the attention of the locals as Mù Tiān Mìng began to sing. They had lost the imperial hunting parties some time ago, giving them some much needed space as well as a moment to acquire funds for food and supplies. 

Làng Wū Yáo knew the song well. It was the one she had partially sung when he first met her, the one he taught her the rest of the lyrics, the one his mother had written. He wanted to sing with her, but even opening his mouth was dangerous with his sorcerous voice so he clamped it shut.

Even without singing, this wasn’t bad at all. He plucked the pipa strings peacefully, hearing the note of each string and the joyful sounds of the crowd they’ve attracted. He never once thought of using his musical prowess to make money for himself. The tavern made a fortune off him, and if he sang, he probably could make a fortune himself. While his heart certainly sang out for a song, he wouldn’t stoop to that level to con people out of their money. He was better than that.

He closed his eyes, listening to the coins being dropped into the bowl they’d set out. A few copper coins, more than enough to pay for several meals but then there was a single silver coin. Someone was a big spender. People walked by on their daily business. Some had stopped to listen and enjoy the song. No signs of the imperials, no signs of Yīn Xiàtiān. Yet, at least.

As the song concluded, the two musicians stood to take a bow. The gathered crowd applauded. “Thank you for listening to our songs,” Mù said appreciatively. “For now, we’ll need to rest our voices.” She plucked the bowl from the ground, taking it with them. It was an excuse as neither was tired, though she couldn’t deny that lunch sounded good right now. “Let’s hope that Bù Huàn has found something,” she added to Làng quietly as they left the plaza square.

“Let’s hope his investigation skills are better than his cooking!” Líng Yá teased.

They entered the nearby restaurant finding Shāng Bù Huàn waiting for them. The pair settled down at the table, Mù next to Shāng and Làng across from them.

Mù dumped the contents of the bowl out on the table. “Quite the earnings. They certainly enjoyed the songs.” She glanced at Làng who still hadn’t said a word since they’d emerged from the forest two days ago. She could tell he wanted to sing along with her. It was written all over his face, but she also knew the sorcerous power of his voice. He had quieted as a means to control its power, but that didn’t mean his heart didn’t demand a song like hers often did. “Perhaps we could sing a duet again once we’re out of the city.” The slightest of smiles on his face caused her to smile in reply.

Làng had to admit he felt the most alive when he sang, and singing with her was something special. She was the first person to be kind to him, to befriend him and express concern. She’d listened to his concerns about the voice he’d heard when he was alone, and she’d expressed concerns about him being used. He could feel that friendship every time they sang together. Even at the palace, he could feel it when they fought. Sure she wasn’t holding back, but only two with a strong friendship could sing a duet like they had.

Shāng counted the money, equally distributing it to each person at the table. Làng stared at the silver coin and one bronze coin pushed his way. He hadn’t ever been paid for his songs before in anything but food and lodging. He took the coins, staring at them in his hand a moment before he tucked them into a pocket.

“Did you find anything interesting, Bù Huàn?” Mù broke the silence.

“Not much useful other than Yīn Xiàtiān may have passed through here,” Shāng replied. “There was a strange bout of violence yesterday but it strangely passed.”

Làng peered out the window behind the other two. The city looked nothing like the town where they first encountered the effects of the Sorrowful Soul. People bustled by, going about their normal business. The crowd they had attracted with their music was slowly dispersing. It looked and sounded  _ normal _ .

“She might be testing its power,” Mù reasoned. “Though I would’ve expected her to take it straight to her boss given his desire to obtain the Index.”

“It’s that obsession with this guy, I bet!” Líng Yá pointed out.

Làng’s frown was a bit more subtle than the two across the table.

“Do you think she might try to use the sword on Wū Yáo?” Mù worried.

Shāng rubbed at his chin. “I’d rather not think of the worst, but obsession can drive people mad.”

“And she was pretty mad that we intervened before she could abduct him,” Mù said.

“Like I’d let that happen!” Líng Yá hissed.

Làng frowned slightly at his own inability to protect himself against her. He could’ve used Líng Yá to fight against her had it not been for the pain rippling through his head and down to his very soul along with that strange weakness in his knees. He was still mad about letting a cicada past his defenses into his  _ ear _ .

“Besides, Làng is avoiding talking just so she won’t find us yet!” Líng Yá added.

Mù frowned. At least he had the pipa to talk for him so he wasn’t completely silent.

“We’ll find her and retrieve that sword,” Shāng said with certainty. “Or she might find us. Either way, we’ll be victorious.”

“You mean you two, man,” Líng Yá pointed out.

Shāng quickly shook his head. “ _ All _ of us. We are in this sword hunt together after all. We don’t leave our friends behind. Ever.”

Làng stared a moment before nodding. It was still a strange thought to be doing this, and part of him wondered what his mother would think of his current self. He was still a blade, just his own blade now and not serving the empire as the Court Virtuoso as his mother likely wanted for him. He was fighting against the empire his mother wanted him to serve, the one she thought would protect his songs. But this was his life now, no one else’s. He chose this path of his own free will.

He looked up as the server placed a bowl of dumplings on the table.

“You sure know how to order good food!” Líng Yá commented.

Shāng laughed. “Well I’m sure it’s much better than lumpy soup.” Even he admitted the soup was kind of bad but at least it was filling.

They each took his share. Làng stared at the dumpling for a moment. The palace had kept him well fed to ensure he stayed there, but there was something about local town dumplings that hit a spot no rich palace food ever could. Even with the lumpy soup, he was appreciative of the food he had, no longer worrying about being used in order to feed himself. He had to admit the dumpling was pretty satisfying and quickly consumed it.

Shāng nearly choked on his dumpling. “You don’t have to scarf the food down you know.”

Làng stared at the empty dumpling bowl compared to the barely touched ones across the table. He had done the same thing with the lumpy soup without really noticing. He had grown accustomed to eating whatever he could whenever he could, even when there was plenty of food available at the palace. He scarfed it down, hoping to digest everything before the next performance. That wasn’t necessary anymore, was it? But old habits die hard.

“Take the fourth dumpling. I know I can’t finish it,” Shāng offered.

Reaching forward, Làng squeezed a piece of it off with the chopsticks before taking a share of it. He was hungry after exerting that much energy to repair his ear but he certainly didn’t want to be greedy. He nearly frowned as Shāng pushed the dumpling bowl towards him with the other pieces.

“Using that much qi can really take a toll on someone,” Shāng pointed out. 

“Not like you don’t exert a boatload of it when you fight!” Líng Yá pointed out. “Don’t think this guy hasn’t noticed!”

Shāng laughed. “I’d be surprised if you  _ didn’t  _ notice in the short time we’ve traveled together.” They were all sensitive to qi, Làng included. Shāng’s fighting style exerted a massive amount of qi, often recklessly and sloppily. It wore on him but it reminded him of how much it took to take someone’s life. Every other time, he was simply suppressing it to be unnoticed.

Làng conceded and took all the pieces of the fourth dumpling. He nearly consumed the remaining dumpling pieces, side-eyeing the person who now approached the table. Something about the man threw Làng’s senses into a knot. The lumbering sounds of his steps spoke of falsehood along with a strange noise in the floorboards he hadn’t heard when he and Mù entered earlier.

“Say, I heard you two playing in the plaza and am in need of musicians tonight,” the man proposed.

“Not a chance!” Líng Yá refused before the man could even finish. “Get lost!”

“I could offer you more money than you got in that bowl!” the man protested.

Mù glanced at Làng, noticing the musician hadn’t taken his eyes off the intruding man. She would’ve refused the offer either way, as taverns liked to take advantage of musicians, but that look said something else was there. Perhaps greed since Làng hadn’t acted any more strongly than glaring at him from behind his bangs.

“You heard the pipa,” Mù said sharply. “We are not interested.”

The man leaned forward, reaching for Làng’s shoulder as his arm brushed over the table and their warm lunch. The musician immediately pushed him away, the mere contact telling him what was going on. That feeling he’d felt before wasn’t simply greed underneath that smile attempting to be inviting. He knew that feeling that was emanating from him.

Làng stood up sharply, striking the man with an empty bowl and knocking him out. His companions stared at him, shocked.

“Làng!” Shāng exclaimed. “There was no need to----”

Before Shāng could object any more, Làng turned over his cup of green tea, spilling it on the table along with several cicadas as the illusion faded. 

“That man was affected by the Sorrowful Soul!” Líng Yá explained. “Those bugs fell from his sleeve into the tea when he reached for Làng!”

Shāng swallowed hard. What was with Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins and having him nearly eat bugs? At least the musicians prevented him from nearly swallowing bugs again.

Làng crushed the bugs with the tea cup before they had a chance to escape. “Yīn Xiàtiān. She’s sending us a message.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that always had me curious was how Shāng always had money. By the time he gets to Dong Li, he definitely has some in his pocket but where did he get it? What can you do to make money when you're doing what they do? Well music of course. People will pay for a good song (a normal song, not one combined with drugs like at the tavern).
> 
> Shāng seems more adept at gathering some information while they make some coins. He certainly seems to gather intel while Mù is at the pagoda, so gathering it here works just as well. They've lost the imperial hunting parties, so it gives them a little bit of respite.
> 
> Well until they had cicadas in their tea....


	7. Bug tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that the cicada assassin wants to send them a message. But is something else lurking within this town?

For commanding cicadas, Yīn Xiàtiān was an expert at keeping herself hidden. Her skills seemed a rather bizarre combination, one of the noisiest insects combined with an assassin’s silence, but somehow it worked well for her. Perhaps even better now that she had the Sorrowful Soul in her possession.

“She was testing the power of that sword out on this town,” Mù Tiān Mìng observed, “though it’s possible she never left the town. The question is, how close is she?”

Làng Wū Yáo closed his eyes, his healed ear now able to hear everything around him once again. There was the unconscious man on the ground mumbling about making more money, the proprietor of this restaurant cowering behind the counter, the server tucked behind the door, the people bustling outside completely unaware of what was happening inside the restaurant.

Làng frowned, shaking his head.

“How troublesome,” Shāng Bù Huàn rubbed at his head. “We don’t know the reach of this sword just yet. She could be here, she could be in the next town.”

“Given her obsession with Wū Yáo, it’s quite possible she is still here,” Mù said. “Perhaps she saw us playing in the plaza much of the morning and decided to send us a message.”

“I’m really tired of bugs in our food,” Shāng frowned. “But given that we are dealing with one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins now wielding a sorcerous sword, we have to be ready for anything.”

“What now?” Làng questioned quietly.

Shāng leaned on the table with a frown. “The last time you asked that, there were scorpions everywhere. You’re not seeing something we aren’t, are you?”

Làng shook his head.

Shāng sighed in relief. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to say the walls were crawling with cicadas next or that you heard the Hunting Fox’s party again.”

“Làng would say it with a bit more urgency if he thought there was danger!” Líng Yá pointed out. “He’s trying to communicate better, yanno! He knows you can’t understand him like I can.”

The talk over the campfire still lingered in Làng’s mind. Filling in each other’s gaps and being a strength where one may feel weak. They trusted his sense nearly as much as he trusted it himself. He could hear things they could not, understand the world in a way that no one else could. His supernatural hearing was incredibly fine tuned, which was also his trouble with Yīn and her cicadas.

“I’m sure in time, we will understand each other a bit more.” Shāng grinned. He still wasn’t good at reading Làng yet, but that would take time. Làng seemed to be adjusting to them as well, but a massive shift in his life probably left him a bit confused and unable to figure out how to always communicate. “For now, though, we’re still a bit short on options. Staying here could cause trouble, but leaving could also leave trouble here.”

“Yīn Xiàtiān could very well follow us out of town,” Mù countered. “Or she could already be gone.”

“True,” Shāng frowned a bit. “All the paths I’m thinking feel like Làng is bait and I’d rather not have that.”

“A little late for that!” Líng Yá pointed out. “This guy stayed silent, only plucking notes in a town where we didn’t even know that bug freak had been! Man, what a pain!”

“It’s possible this encounter was just coincidence,” Mù reasoned. “She now knows we’re here, and we know she’s here or at least has been close enough to possess the tavern man. It’s a bit of a stalemate at the moment. The only move she’s made is try to get us to drink bugs.”

Shāng wrinkled his nose.

Làng stared at the squashed bugs on the table. “We make the first move and lure her closer.”

Shāng looked up from the table, surprised by the suggestion.

“She is a danger to this town and all near it,” Làng continued. “She must be dealt with, and that sword must be sealed.” He peered back at his companions. It didn’t take much to see they agreed with him but also were concerned. Yīn had taken him down relatively easily with a bug in his ear, something he was still fuming about, and using himself to drag her out would be risky. “Together.”

The restaurant proprietor peered out from behind the counter. He hadn’t heard Làng’s voice, assuming that Líng Yá’s was his. It was a strangely alluring voice and it seemed like someone was after it. That lady he saw yesterday, perhaps... “Um, Sirs.”

The trio looked over at the proprietor still partially cowering from behind the counter.

“You’re talking about that terribly rude lady, aren’t you?” the proprietor asked. “The one with balls in her hair?”

“That’s her! That obsessive buggy bitch!” Líng Yá shouted

It was then the proprietor realized the other voice did not belong to Làng but instead his pipa. He stared at Líng Yá, uncertain of what to make of him.

“She was here then?” Shāng questioned.

The proprietor nodded, taking his focus off the pipa. “She came in for a meal, paid in coins that turned into bugs, then after she left, everyone started fighting!”

“Not even paying for a meal! How low can you get?!” Líng Yá criticized.

“Was she holding a sword that looked like braided hair?” Mù asked.

The proprietor nodded again. “I saw it for a brief moment before the chaos broke out. But there’s more than that. After she left, there was a strange noise then there was a crack in the back wall!” He pointed at the crack along the back partially hidden by curtains. “Do you think that rude lady caused that too?”

Làng stared at the proprietor for a moment, considering the strange noise. His supernatural voice was something unique enough that he doubted anyone else possessed this ability. And if they did, they certainly weren’t in Xī Yōu else that princess probably would’ve claimed them. He walked over to the indicated crack, pushing the curtains over to the side just enough to observe the damage. His voice could do a lot of things, but this was far beyond what even he was capable of doing.

“The Sorrowful Soul does make noise but it doesn’t have that effect,” Shāng recalled the information they’d been tracking. “It could be another sword.”

The proprietor glanced between the gathered group hoping that they would get rid of these weird occurrences in their town. “I honestly just want my place to be standing after the end of the night.”

But there was another in the room that had been listening in on the conversation. The server had suddenly begun to stare at them across the room from behind the nearby door. He had heard rumors about someone coming to collect sorcerous swords. Could they possibly be the Sword-plundering Nemesis the imperials had mentioned, the greatest villains in all of Xī Yōu? The reward for information was incredibly high.

Làng glanced at the server for a moment who peered back at him before shutting the door. His breathing suggested he was intent on doing something risky. The proprietor was more than willing to offer information about the mysterious noise and Yīn Xiàtiān, but that server seemed to have a different intent. Returning to the table, he dug the single brass coin from his pocket, placing it on the table. “We need to go.”

The other two stood up, not questioning it. Làng had sensed something given Líng Yá’s silence and the rather serious expression the musician now wore. They walked some ways away, Làng carefully listening to their surroundings. The server had suddenly left the restaurant after they did. He was attempting to sneak but even with the noise in the plaza, the server couldn’t cover his steps.

Mù peered at Làng as soon as they were further from the restaurant. “Something was with that proprietor, wasn’t it?” 

“The server,” Làng nodded, keeping his voice low as he spoke. “I believe he recognized you, Shāng.”

“Me?” Shāng questioned. “It’s not as though people really know my face.”

“The talk about swords,” Làng said.

Shāng frowned. “How troublesome.” He had been stealing sorcerous swords for a while, keeping them from the empire’s hands. The idea of the Sword-plundering Nemesis had spread around but no one really knew what he looked like. He usually wore a hat that shielded his face. The Hunting Fox knew what he looked like, but there were no wanted posters or anything like that posted to indicate the two were one and the same.

“Stop right there, Sword-plundering Nemesis!”

Imperial soldiers surrounded them quickly as the locals scurried away to find a place to hide. Shāng sighed. So much for not getting recognized. This  _ would  _ make things troublesome.

Làng glanced around, pulling Líng Yá from his back and into his hands. These men were acting of their own volition. He kept his ears open for signs of Yīn Xiàtiān nearby. He still couldn’t find an aura evil enough to match hers or even come close. He didn’t even hear the cicadas at the moment. What was she waiting for? Or was she actually not here?

But there was another noise he heard. A deep ringing, almost guttral in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They never seem to catch a break do they? First bug tea courtesy of Yin, now a mysterious noise that causes cracks in the wall. Could Yin be the source of the noise or could it be someone else? They certainly have a lot of trouble on their hands right now, don't they?


	8. The ringing noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being surrounded by imperials could be trouble enough, but what is that deep guttural sound rapidly approaching?

Shāng Bù Huàn wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, taking an offensive stance as more imperial soldiers approached. For such a remote town, they sure had a suspicious number of soldiers at the ready. That sound the proprietor had mentioned could easily be another sword planted in the area for the purpose of disrupting the town. This place was bordering large amounts of forests at the edge of the kingdom, and the empire liked to take out these remote locations that didn’t want to submit to imperial rule.

This could be fortunate and unfortunate for them. Fortunate that they could seal another sword away. Unfortunate that they had no idea what it was or how it worked.

Also unfortunate was that Yīn Xiàtiān was likely still lingering around the town.

Also, also, unfortunate that the Hunting Fox could be nearby too.

There were far too many unfortunates for Shāng’s tastes but he’d been in worse. “What makes you think we’re somehow the Sword-plundering Nemesis?” Shāng questioned. “We were just enjoying some dumplings.”

Làng Wū Yáo paused with his fingers just above the pipa strings. This was a strange approach, not one that he expected from someone who could flatten the whole lot of them with a stick. His sensitive ears picked up on the deep ringing noise in the distance, stealing his attention away from Shāng attempting to downplay the unfortunate title. He still wanted to find Yīn Xiàtiān before she attempted to ambush them and take Làng out with a bug in the ear again. He still was upset about that. But that noise. It was unnatural.

One of the imperials scoffed. “We know about your conversation on sorcerous swords!”

Shāng frowned. That server had blabbed much more quickly than he expected. “How troublesome.”

“Guess you just can’t reason with imperials.” Mù Tiān Mìng pulled the guqin off her back, flinging off several sonic attacks and knocking the front lines backwards.

“Attack!” the soldier shouted.

Shāng withdrew his sword, dispatching the closest ones quickly. These were honestly just small fry, easy enough to deal with even in droves like this. The challenge was to do it a little more delicately as there were still civilians in the area. Hiding, but still present. He snatched a broom from a nearby stall, using it as a sharpened lance. He quickly struck the soldiers, piercing their bodies and piling them up on the ground. 

As the fight raged on behind him, Làng’s attention was somewhere else. That noise was getting closer far too fast. Stepping away from his companions, he adjusted the strings on the pipa. A quick strum of the strings, he used his manipulation of sound to create a massive rounded shield around him and the others.

“Get close!” Líng Yá shouted.

Shāng drove the broom through a line of imperials, leaping backwards towards Làng.

Mù fired off several blasts with her guqin as she heard some terrible noise approach. She quickly stepped backwards and behind Làng.

Something loud slammed into the shield that Làng had created, pushing him back several feet. Had Shāng and Mù not been behind him, he might’ve toppled over just from the sheer impact. With them leaning against him, he continued to pull the strings and block the sudden attack. “It’s strong.”

The sound that had impacted them rolled off the side of the shield, shattering the stalls and the people hiding behind them on impact. Not even the soldiers were spared their unfortunate fate.

Another slash of sound came and another, crumbling the sides of the buildings nearby. This town was quickly being torn apart by the sounds the proprietor mentioned. This sorcerous sword was powerful. Làng was reminded of the Dark Phantom sword that crumpled an entire peninsula in one swing. He saw the ravine it created when Shāng and Mù had taken him with them. These swords needed to be out of the hands of the empire and in that Index Shāng had. This one would be no different.

But first, there was that sound to contend with. 

“Look! It’s an imperial bastard!” Líng Yá pointed out.

An imperial wearing long fluttering red and white robes stood on the far end of the plaza, holding a sword that looked closer to a stringed instrument than an actual blade. The hilt was curved, strings attached at the lower end of the hilt and traveling halfway down the blade before tying off. It didn’t look like a practical instrument at all, and Làng frowned at the poor design. But even badly designed, it was still doing a massive amount of damage just by swinging.

“A setup again,” Shāng gritted his teeth. “They planned to take this city down whether we were here or not. This destruction needs to stop.”

“Their motives never change, honestly,” Mù said. “We need to stop that noise and seal the sword before they take down more of this region. And perhaps us with it.”

Làng shifted, bending his back knee for support. “I will sing to counter it.”

“Wū Yáo,” Mù stared at his back.

“Làng can win a singing contest with a dumb ass badly designed musical sword! His voice is much stronger than that!” Líng Yá confirmed Làng’s plan. “The other option is to wait until sound slices us in half like the rest of these poor bastards caught in the crossfire!”

Shāng frowned. There was so much blood of innocent people splattered across the town. The sword had made quick work of them all, felling the buildings along with them.

Mù placed a hand on Làng’s shoulder. She knew how much he wanted to sing since they’d ditched the imperial hunting party some time ago, unable to fulfill his heart’s desires as he attempted to not attract Yīn. He had barely spoken since they left the forest two days ago. That hadn’t really been as effective as they’d hoped, as she ended up happening upon them anyway. She wasn’t certain of the limits of his voice or what he could do with it, but he’d been rigorously trained to use it, to funnel all his sorcerous power through his throat in a positive way. If anyone could win a singing contest with a sword, it would be him. “Hold him off as long as you can then join us. If you hear cicadas, don’t hesitate to call for us.”

Làng nodded. Last thing he wanted was to have another cicada in his ear then be kidnapped or dragged off by that obsessive assassin. He was no one’s caged bird.

Tuning the strings on the pipa again, he began the familiar song. It was a favorite of his, one that spoke to him and he often sang when still performing at the taverns and the palace.

“ _ Journeyed days across the distance, _

_ Keep walking on: His/Story. _

_ Vowed to be fearless—broken and hopeless, _

_ What was gained, what has been lost? _ ”

As he belted out the words, he could feel his voice being used for something useful. Not once had he really considered using his voice to repel attacks. There was too much of a risk normally, but with a town now dead from a supernatural sword and that Shāng and Mù could resist its power, he could sing to his heart’s content. He’d been wanting to sing for some time, and he was continuously denying his soul’s desires and keeping those frustrations and desires and emotions bottled up deep inside. It was time to let them out.

Truthfully his companions had put the idea into his head when they first faced off against the Sorrowful Soul.  _ A voice that could overpower a sorcerous sword _ . Well supernatural blade versus sorcerous blade. He would accept that challenge.

As soon as the song began, Shāng and Mù took the first opening to leap upward and run along the remains of the town’s walls.

The imperial drew his attention from Làng for a moment, firing off sonic booms at Shāng. The guttural sound of the sword rang out as it cracked the city’s walls and the ground around it.

Làng wrinkled his nose, intercepting the attacks as Shāng leapt off the wall and out of sight. The musician closed his eyes, listening to everything around him. No sign of the cicadas or an evil aura other than the one before him, though it was growing more difficult to search for either with how loud and deep that sword’s notes could be. He hoped that Yīn Xiàtiān would stay away. For the better. He could focus on the music instead.

He fired off several attacks at the imperial as he took several steps forward. “Your fight is with me.” He could handle himself in a musical battle. He’d endured that several times over at the hands of the princess. This was a bit different than a bunch of soldiers being sacrificed for the princess’s sadistic entertainment, but in a way, it still felt the same. Stop singing and die. He had no plans of dying today, and with two whole dumplings for lunch, he had repaired his own qi enough to keep this up for a while.

As the exchange of musical blows continued, Shāng ran along the outside wall. He could feel the qi blasts and that nearly deafening rattle of a noise threatening to take the wall down. With the town unfortunately now slaughtered, Làng had no reason to hold back. Shāng knew full well that Làng could handle himself in this sort of situation. He didn’t fully understand how Làng’s abilities actually worked, though they were related to the massive amount of supernatural qi the musician held in his voice. He just knew right now was the perfect time to use his strengths. Shāng had every intention of backing him up with his own.

He glanced outward to the forest. No signs of anyone approaching. Good. That gave them time hopefully, but Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins could appear out of nowhere. He’d keep a sharp eye open since there was really nowhere for her to hide herself in a crowd here.

He leapt up onto the nearby building that was thankfully still in one piece. There were bodies strewn everywhere here as well. So much senseless death. He needed to get that blade out of the imperial’s hand and seal it before more of this happened.

Shāng spotted Làng now closer than before. He was still belting out the song but he had his eyes closed. He was listening to everything. Shāng reasoned that Làng already knew where everyone was with that remarkably refined hearing of his. Làng had once attempted to describe what he heard, calling it painting a detailed image of the surroundings with sound. Shāng didn’t really understand it, so he’d leave the sound paintings to the expert.

The imperial turned right as Shāng launched himself off the building. He prepared to swipe at Shāng with the musical sword but Mù was faster, launching razor-like wind at the imperial’s arm and slicing it clean off. He reeled backwards, screaming until a blast from Làng had quieted the noise permanently with a quick attack that took off his head.

The musical sword clattered to the ground like a dropped instrument. Sheathing his wooden sword, Shāng removed the brush from his sleeve. “It’s time we seal this thing before anyone else shows up..”

Làng pulled at the pipa’s strings as he approached, humming the last of his tune. A quiet sound caught his attention. 

Buzzing.

Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just one thing after another, isn't it? At least the imperial didn't put up too much of a fight with the sword.
> 
> I like the idea that Lang is still trying to figure out the limits of his voice. Experimenting with abilities and manipulating sounds, seeing what a song can truly do beyond entrance someone. He seems like he's still feeling it out in Season 2, and since this is very early on, he's really pushing his limits in order to seal these swords away with his new friends.
> 
> Seems his effort paid off.
> 
> But that buzzing sound can't be good news, right?


	9. Brushes and Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle against the noise-making sword is seemingly done, but nothing is going their way lately.

“What destruction this sword has caused,” Shāng Bù Huàn sighed as he pulled the brush from his sleeve. “It’s time we tuck this away before the empire gets their hands back on this thing.” He still didn’t quite understand how this brush worked, but he knew it  _ did _ work. The old man had gone to great lengths to break it down in the simplest of terms and show Shāng the spells required to use it and the Index. Most of it flew over his head, but at least he’d understood the end result and the motions to use it.

Làng Wū Yáo plucked the last notes of the song, suddenly stopping as he shifted his stance and fired off two musical attacks. The sharp sounds shot past Shāng on either side, impacting something behind him.

Shāng paused in the start of the spell, staring him at the dead bugs now falling from the air. Something buzzed right past him, impacting his hand and the sealing spell immediately dropped. He couldn’t see what it was either, but the impact had caused the brush to crack just slightly. “Oh no.” That wasn’t good.

Mù Tiān Mìng stared at the crack in the brush as the ancient magic dripped from it. She leapt forward, attempting to grab at the sword but it skirted away from her grasp in a loud buzzing breeze. “Wū Yáo! The sword!”

Làng nodded, leaping up into the air. He had to be cautious as another cicada in the ear could potentially be the last thing he ever heard but not so careful that he lost track of a nefarious sword that could slice an entire town apart with a badly played tune. He twisted as he rose up, firing off musical blasts as he followed the sound of the buzzing. Dead insects fell from the sky, littering the ground.

He landed on a broken building, listening to the sounds as it began to grow loudly. Too loud for his tastes. She was trying old tricks again. Pulling the pipa’s strings to destroy the insects buzzing before him, he leapt backwards, landing where Shāng stood.

Mù continued the assault on the cicadas. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they were given they surrounded the sword itself, carrying it along. Each time she aimed directly for the sword, bugs swarmed in front of it to protect it. This would be troublesome. Now where was that bug assassin hiding? Knock the assassin out, the bugs go with her, but that sort of plan was easier said than done. Làng had leapt backwards and off the walls, likely sensing an attack on his own ears. She couldn’t sense illusions like he could, but she could still fire off an assault. Taking a knee, she placed the guqin on it and pulled the blade over the strings, sending out massive waves of sound at the insects in hopes to catch Yīn by chance.

“Your ears alright?” Shāng questioned the musician with concern.

“She’s trying to sneak a fast one up on this guy again!” Líng Yá replied. “Like we’d let that happen again, right?!”

Làng nodded.

“Can you tell where she is yet?” Shāng tucked the brush back in his sleeve.

Làng closed his eyes, letting his ears do the observing. He could hear everything around him, each strum of Mù’s guqin, heels on the wall masked by incessant buzzing, the cicada that was trying to sneak up on him. He clapped it between his hands, squashing it. Not happening this time.

The buzzing was distracting his senses, but even in his attempts to tune it out hadn’t been very successful in locating Yīn. “Barely. She is here.”

“Why are you tucking that brush away?!” Líng Yá scolded Shāng. “Can’t you hit it a moving target?!”

“It broke,” Shāng frowned. “I’m not sure if Yīn Xiàtiān knew what I was doing but she definitely stopped it. We’ll have to take the sword with us.”

“Like that bug freak would let us do that!” Líng Yá fussed.

“But we shall try,” Làng added, leaping back onto the building. The sword had been going in circles but hadn’t yet left the city. Yīn had to be here somewhere. He could hear her heels on the wall, but the dance of insects had strangely masked her sounds. They had to be swarming near her feet as well.

If they could get her to show herself, Shāng could chase her while they chased the sword. He drew the pipa back, preparing to transform him into a sword. Yet he stopped when the sword’s movements had changed.

The sword stopped on the walls just a ways down from where he stood. The cicadas screeched loudly as they became visible and drew together, forming Yīn Xiàtiān holding the sword. “Who knew that something like  _ this  _ would get you to sing, Wū Yáo~.”

Làng wrinkled his nose. She didn’t like how informal she was with his name. Not that she knew his full name. Not that he’d bothered to tell her his name either.

Yīn tapped the sword on her hand, observing the intricate design of the music-like appearance. Unlike the rest gathered, she found the design quite beautiful. It was more likely the association with Làng singing that had her admiring it more. This certainly was more useful than the Sorrowful Soul she still had in her possession.

“I will make you sing for me, my beautiful bard!” Yīn declared.

Làng tightened his grip on Líng Yá.

“Not happening,” Shāng declared as he leapt up onto the building. He wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword, taking an offensive stance. They had to get that sword away from her, not only because it would further her obsession but also if she returned to her master with it, he would possess a devastating weapon. They needed both weapons, but devastating one was top priority.

“I wonder what they call this blade,” Yīn mused as she drew it over her head. “I think I will call it the Caged Songbird!” She slashed downwards, the sword’s strings vibrating and sending forth a devastating blast of sound. 

Shāng and Mù both leapt away, their potential landings quickly being crumbled away by the sonic impact. They landed further back on the taller building.

Yīn turned her attention back to the redhead musician. “Come, Wū Yáo~. Come with me and they won’t have to suffer.”

“Get lost, you obsessive freak!” Líng Yá hissed.

“I didn’t ask you, you obnoxious pipa!” Yīn fussed at him.

Làng replied instead with several sonic blasts of his own. He was no one’s caged songbird and he hated the name that sword now had. It was a reminder of everything he purposely left behind. Not that he’d let that distract him as he leapt in the air to avoid the sword’s attack. Another attack would’ve sliced him had he not shifted and used Líng Yá’s music to create a barrier. The impact pushed him backwards, and he barely caught his footing on the crumpling town wall. It managed to support its weight, the massive cracks snaking up the foundation.

He didn’t need to look to hear that Shāng and Mù had moved. They leapt off the crumbling building, heading through the plaza towards where Yīn now perched. Làng was a very good distraction. He’d played the part before, though the stakes were a bit more dangerous than an angry crowd throwing noodle bowls. 

Yīn laughed shrilly, clearly noticing nothing other than her songbird target.

_ Good _ . Làng curled his legs a bit, maintaining his balance on the broken wall. Turning the knobs to change the tune on his pipa, he pulled at the strings. For a moment, he considered distracting her with a song, but he had no desire to give her the pleasure of hearing his voice. That had already gotten them  _ into  _ this mess.

He plucked several notes, throwing sonic attacks at Yīn who quickly retaliated with several attacks of her own. The exchange crumbled the walls and flung bamboo in all directions. Shāng and Mù quickly dodged the shrapnel, attempting to close the gap with Yīn.

“Don’t interfere!” Yīn hissed, throwing several attacks towards the sneaky pair.

With several quick notes, Làng sent sonic waves in the direction of the attack, diverting most of it though a small note managed to snag Mù in the leg before she dove behind the barrier.

“Tiān Mìng!” Shāng exclaimed.

She quickly ducked behind the wall, grimacing. Her leg was bleeding pretty heavily but it was still in one piece at least. “I’ll be fine!” That wall likely wouldn’t stand for long given the sword they were dealing with but if Shāng took her out while Làng was deflecting attacks, this wall would be enough. She placed her hand on her ankle, pushing qi into it. “Take her out quickly.”

Shāng pursed his lips together, hesitant to leave her behind a crumbling wall. But his decision was quickly made as a hunting horn resounded over the falling rubble and sonic attacks.  _ Of course _ they were here. This sonic sword was yet another imperial ploy no doubt.

“Ah it’s those imperial stalkers!” Líng Yá observed.

Yīn took her eyes off Làng for a moment, noticing them in the distance. They sure had poor timing. She knew if those imperial soldiers got hold of her new toy, she wouldn’t be able to make him sing for her. She could get rid of them, but she would also have to deal with Shāng and Mù attempting to take the sword as well. “I hope you enjoy your respite, my dear Wū Yáo~.”

“Stop calling him that!” Líng Yá screeched.

“I’ll make you sing for me for the rest of our lives soon enough!” Yīn slashed at the wall next to Làng, kicking up a large amount of dust and blasting the leaves from the trees. She leapt backwards, disappearing into a swarm of cicadas. Làng fired off a quick sonic attack, snagging her in the leg as she fled. A number of cicadas fell dead along the walls, but Yīn was gone. Pursuing her wasn’t quite an option without a means to track her, but he had more important things to worry about. His companions.

Làng leapt off the building to join the others while Líng Yá fussed in his arms. “Had it not been for those stalkers, we might’ve gotten her!”

“Things are trying to work against us,” Shāng frowned. “Let’s leave before they realize we’re here. Though they probably already know we’re here, given the battle.”

“I’d rather not wait around and find out.” Mù took one last look at the scene. She handed Làng her guqin before Shāng hoisted her on his back. It was a literal bloody mess, and they hadn’t found a way to get the sword that caused it. Something always had to interrupt them, but with that Fox nipping at their heels, this was bound to happen. For now, they needed to repair the brush and themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that if the Index can break, so can the brush. Shāng really needs to be more careful with this thing! But it seems everything is going wrong for them. No sword, broken brush, injured Mù, and an imperial search party. What a mess.


	10. Mountain sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a broken brush and now missing two sorcerous swords, Shāng, Mù, and Làng retreat into the mountains to have the brush repaired and take a slight respite

“You have to be careful with these things!” the old master Tiān Gōng Guǐ Jiàng hit Shāng Bù Huàn on the back of the head. “I swear, hand a swordmaster a brush, and he finds a way to break it!” He snatched the brush from Shāng’s hand before shoving him out the door.

They had hidden the old master away far in the nearby mountains. It was too cold for cicadas and a bit too difficult for the imperials to scale the peaks to reach them. Not that they would think to look up there anyway. It wasn’t as tall a mountain as Làng Wū Yáo had once lived but it certainly had its height. The trek upward had been a bit more challenging with the injuries, but with some qi healing and carrying Mù Tiān Mìng partway up the mountainside, they had scaled to the cabin in the peaks without being tracked.

Làng closed his eyes, listening to the peaceful sounds of the forest and mountains around them. No signs of cicadas, no destructive swords, no imperial armies. It almost made him forget about that obsessive assassin after his own voice.  _ Almost _ .

“Good job breaking it, man!” Líng Yá criticized as Làng settled down on the hillside.

Shāng rubbed the back of his head. “Man, what a pain.”

“He is right though,” Mù chided him, rubbing at her ankle. While it had mostly healed, the hike up the mountain had irritated it a bit. “That brush is an important tool. It needs to be protected, unless you want to try to carry all those swords around like we used to.”

“I’d rather not.” He frowned as he rubbed his head some more. He  _ did  _ let his guard down for a moment and the brush took the damage. Now they had no means of sealing the swords until it was fixed. Then the challenge came of getting those swords back from Yīn Xiàtiān. “I’m not sure how I missed that one so easily.”

Làng plucked at the strings on his pipa. “The cicadas do not seem to give off much else other than sound. No qi, no signs of movement, nothing more than sound. It allows them to hide in plain sight.”

“So that’s their secret,” Shāng frowned. It would’ve been much easier if they had some sort of qi, but nothing was ever easy with these assassins. He idly wondered if that was how Xiē Yīngluò hid her scorpions in plain sight. Enough of that thought though. He didn’t want to think about how he nearly ate a plate of scorpions.

“With the summer months setting in, that sound will be difficult to pick apart from normal cicadas,” Mù frowned. “It would be quite troublesome if she could recruit them too.”

The red bard hummed quietly. Yīn’s cicadas were annoying enough to deal with already. A single one could sound like an entire swarm, and it threw him off entirely. He was still trying to figure out the best way to fight these cicadas and not put himself or his companions at risk. Perhaps some fire spells, but even then, she could simply summon more. She seemed to have an endless supply of them.

“If only we could hear as well as you do,” Shāng frowned.

Làng frowned, standing up and slinging Líng Yá on his back. “It is more trouble than it’s worth.” His mind was still stirring with recent events, trying to figure out how to handle this sort of battle. Fighting these assassins was much different than training with his mother or fighting off hordes of imperials at the palace. Perhaps he needed a moment to think, to hone his skills a bit more.

Shāng frowned some more. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I mean after all, that voice of yours did bring us all together in a way. Had you not sang with Tiān Mìng, I never would’ve heard about you. We wouldn’t have taken you with us after our little bout. And you would’ve just been another face that we didn’t notice.”

“And we certainly wouldn’t have sung such beautiful duets together,” Mù added.

Làng stared down the hillside. While he had a lot on his mind, it drifted back to how much time he’d spent with Mù. He had to admit he enjoyed those times he left the tavern to sing with her. He felt alive when they sang together, something he didn’t particularly understand at the time. But understanding his feelings was something difficult, not that he was any better now that he was his own person.

“It did bring us together,” Làng agreed quietly.

“Why don’t we sing like we did before, Wū Yáo?” Mù suggested before he managed to slink off and hum in the forest alone. “We  _ are  _ far enough away that only we would hear the song. The old master is adept in ancient magics. You won’t affect him either.”

Làng turned back to his companions. He couldn’t deny the idea was enticing. He hadn’t truly sung a duet with her since the palace battle. Their last duet in the now destroyed town denied him the chance to sing. It was such a risk to open his mouth with his supernatural voice, and even riskier to sing. And with Yīn Xiàtiān now after his voice, singing had a greater risk.

He turned back to the forest. Not another soul on the mountain either. No one else  _ would  _ hear his voice. They hadn’t passed any towns or even encampments on the way up. They didn’t even have a pathway to guide their travels.

With a song, he could clear his mind, perhaps even express some of what he was feeling. Singing was much easier than talking.

“Perhaps Bù Huàn might tune his ears to the music while we play too,” Mù teased. “He could learn to hear illusions and not eat a plate full of scorpions.”

“H-hey!” Shāng protested. “That was once!” She wasn’t wrong though. His ears weren’t as finely tuned as either of his companions, but his mastery of qi far surpassed them. “Besides I haven’t heard you both sing together. Last time we were a little busy. I’d like to hear this duet.”

“That we were,” Mù mused. “What do you say, Wū Yáo? Just a duet.”

Làng turned back to his companions, pulling Líng Yá into his arms. He peered at Shāng for a moment. He was able to not be affected by his supernatural voice, so a duet wouldn’t hurt. “I would like that a lot.” He pulled at the strings, plucking each note as Mù joined him. “You recall my mother’s song, yes?”

“I do,” Mù smiled. “It’s such a lovely song, and this time, we won’t be interrupted.”

Even though he was doing exactly the opposite of what his mother had desired of him, Làng still favored the song. It was one he’d sung over and over again, memorizing the intricacies of each note and feeling each individual note as he sang them. It was hearing Mù sing that song that had drawn him to the pagoda that first time, and in a strange way, it felt like it drew him towards people that were important to him.

“ _ Even as the snow piles up in the stillness _

_ The sound will ring out no matter how faint _

_ If you can strain your ears and find the source _

_ In that moment, you will hear my playing. _ ”

Shāng had heard the song before. Mù sang it in the town when they were playing to earn some funds. It was the tune he’d heard when invading the palace as well. But seeing them sing it together was something different. Làng looked at ease when he sang, his voice ringing out over a normally quiet forest. There was a certain power to the music and the words that Shāng really hadn’t felt before. He could understand why Mù had spoken about Làng so much.

But there was more to it. There was emotion buried deep within his notes, speaking more than his words could ever express. Shāng didn’t notice it before, but when he last heard Làng sing, he was certain the bard was nothing more than the princess’s songbird. The duel they had following that song had told him much more. Làng’s understanding that he was serving someone terrible, that forlorn expression he had when the Hunting Fox demanded he return because he was  _ property _ . Làng didn’t need to speak much for Shāng to understand him at that time.

At the moment, Shāng was picking up on Làng’s frustrations in his voice. The red bard was still upset about the cicada in his ear, about losing the sword, and how much difficulty the assassin was giving them. He still was trying to figure out his own skills, the limits of his supernatural voice, and what he could actually use it to accomplish. He had a lot to figure out now that he was his own person.

But there was hope still behind those frustrations. Làng was still learning how he could rely on them after being alone for so long, but he felt like he  _ could _ rely on them.

Shāng listened to the lyrics as they sang. It felt like an appropriate song given their present situation. The sounds that Shāng had attempted to hear were much too faint for his ears to pick up and he felt like he was straining his ears just to listen to these disguised sounds. He relied so much on qi mastery to do his fighting that he found illusions difficult to understand. They made noise, Làng had said, but even Mù’s more refined hearing hadn’t picked it up.

The lyrics spoke of turning sound into a cutlass and slicing through the darkness to find the light. Truly it was a reflection of both their styles, something very different from Shāng’s own mostly brutal style of driving qi sharply through anything he touched.

“ _ Even now it is drawn to me _

_ Hope that exceeds despair _

_ Fated to shout, disrupting the darkness. _ ”

Làng and Mù twisted around each other, almost like a melodic battle even though no blows were exchanged. Their movements were timed and well placed, neither tripping over the other or the sticks and leaves strewn about at the edge of the forest and careful of Mù’s ankle.

Làng had his eyes closed, listening to the movements and the song, feeling the music down to his very core. The song had spoken to him quite a bit lately, lyrics talking about cutting through the darkness with song and voice, with hope and the desire to live free. It was something that didn’t have as much meaning before as a caged songbird. He didn’t understand what it was like to be his own person or even to  _ think  _ of himself as anything but a sharpened blade, a tool for others to use him.

It had a different meaning to him now, and he wasn’t going to allow some crazy bug assassin to take that freedom away from him and cage him up as her personal songbird. He didn’t have an audience anymore, and his songs were rarely heard with concerns about the effects his voice had, but his companions could listen to them instead.

He felt the hope above despair, even with the situation working against them. He wasn’t alone anymore, and even with the trouble he had with the cicadas, he knew he could rely on Shāng and Mù to watch his back. It was hard to remind himself of that, but he’d only been with them for a few months. Perhaps in time, it would feel natural

“It felt like ages since we’ve actually sung together,” Mù smiled.

She knew Làng felt the same with the softness of his features hidden behind his long hair. He looked at peace, his emotions pouring out through his words and song. She could feel the frustrations he had bottled up start to wash away, though he held onto that anger that he let a cicada get past his defenses. She couldn’t exactly blame him for that one.

Làng settled down with Líng Yá still in his lap. It did feel good to let his emotions pour out into a song. He wondered how much they felt from the words he sang. Mù probably understood what was in his heart. Shāng maybe, but Làng wasn’t quite sure if Shāng spoke song.

Làng glanced at Shāng who looked like he was trying to think too hard about something. Perhaps he  _ had  _ felt something. Perhaps they were finally starting to communicate in the best way Làng knew. Líng Yá would still blab Làng’s inner thoughts here and there, but perhaps they could speak this way too.

“Your face is going to stick that way, Bù Huàn, if you think too hard,” Mù teased.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shāng rubbed at his face, frowning. He had certainly felt something with the song, but using the song to refine his hearing a bit more to hear illusions? He doubted that even Làng’s supernatural voice could help refine his hearing that much. He’d leave the listening to the experts. “I was thinking about something. Làng, what would you say to a spar?”

Làng peered over at Shāng curiously.

“Well the last time we crossed blades, it was a very different situation,” Shāng continued. “I wasn’t sure what to make of you when you followed us out of the palace, despite what Tiān Mìng had told me. We fought as enemies back then, if only briefly, but a lot has changed since then, hasn’t it? We call each other ‘friend’ now. So what do you say? Let’s spar like friends, to sharpen our skills for the battles ahead. Feels like we could both use it. There’s a thicket just down the hill we could use.”

It did feel like so long ago since that time, though it had only been a few months. Làng plucked a few more notes before standing up. “Yes, let us test our skills.” So much had changed since that bout, so much that he was still trying to understand everything and everyone around him as he took on this new role with his new friends. Làng spoke in song, but Shāng spoke a different language. Perhaps Làng could understand him a bit better with a test of skill. “As friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Làng and Mù actually do have duets together during their travels, and Shāng wants to listen to their songs. Shāng likely hadn't heard much of Làng's singing closely before now, but I'd imagine that since Làng expresses himself through song, Shāng would be able to understand that at least to some extent now that he hears the singing clearly. Somewhat. Shāng is kinda dense.
> 
> It's a budding friendship. They'll figure it out eventually. I've recently found in an interview, this story takes place 10 years prior to the main series, so they have plenty of time.


	11. Thicket clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Làng spars with Shāng in the forest thicket! This is definitely different than training with his mother.

It took very little time to reach the thicket. It was a small clearing in the forest with a slight incline, no rivers, and a lot of grass. It was also far enough away that the old master wouldn’t start yelling at them about the noise though the last noise was music and he could complain all he wanted about that one.

Shāng Bù Huàn was certainly looking forward to the spar. Làng’s technique was very different from his own. It relied almost completely on sound and was rooted in his natural enchantments, though he was hardly a slouch with a sword either. He’d seen some wild things of what Làng actually could do with his voice. Creating barriers, deflecting attacks, distractions. He fought Làng only briefly before, but this was a different Làng than the songbird he’d encountered in the palace.

Even with Làng’s intriguing techniques, Shāng had his own skills up his sleeve. He drew his sword, the release of qi with it threw the grass and scattered leaves backward.

Làng Wū Yáo had felt it before. Shāng suppressed his qi when not fighting, but when he released it, it practically exploded. Every move Shāng did was laced with massive bursts of qi that seemed to manifest out of nowhere. It left the musician wondering what would truly happen if Shāng used an actual sword instead of a wooden stick. He heard it. He knew what that sword truly was.

Làng made the first move, firing off several successive sonic attacks at Shāng. He listened to the soft rustling of grass as Shāng dodged each one with more movement than was probably necessary. But Shāng’s style tended to be like that. It was blunt and brutal with movements easier to hear, but that ability to manipulate qi with anything he touched would make things more difficult. The qi could extend past the weaponry, and while Làng was sensitive to it, that qi was still harder to judge.

Shāng was more accustomed to seeing sonic attacks from training with Mù but something about Làng’s  _ did _ feel different. It was the way he precisely challenged the qi through his movements, making no wasted effort with each pluck of the strings. Làng was absolutely tracking him. He dodged the next attack, taking the moment to dash forward and swipe with a broad stroke of his sword.

Làng shifted, using Líng Yá to block the attack with the side of the pipa.

“You’ll have to do better than that!” the pipa taunted.

Làng changed his stance, moving to kick the wooden blade from Shāng’s hand while they were in close combat.

Shāng dodged quickly, sensing the shift in stance. He withdrew backwards, striking again only to be thwarted by the pipa. Làng was faster than he expected, that honed sense of his likely picking up on Shāng’s movements just as he prepared them.

Làng hadn’t taken his eyes off Shāng, though his ears were doing most of the assessment. Blow for blow, Làng blocked the attacks with Líng Yá until he withdrew backwards. Shifting the pipa in his hands, he dropped the base to the ground. The impact created a soundwave that flattened the grass and pulled the leaves from the trees.

Shāng had seen that move before when they fought the Hunting Fox. It was much broader than he’d expected, forcing him to quickly dodge upward into the trees. Làng wasn’t holding back so neither should he.

Shāng landed back on the ground, wasting no time in taking the offensive with more power than before. He certainly had no intent on harming Làng at all, but he also didn’t want to hold back and not help them communicate and understand each other in and out of battle. That was the plan of this spar, after all. They were still getting to know each other, and the more they understood one another, the better they could have each other’s backs.

Làng noticed the next strike had more power than the last. He could feel the pressure as he blocked with the pipa, digging his heels into the ground with each successive attack. He found himself with less and less time to force a separation between them with a sonic attack. He swiped at Shāng with his boot, forcing the distance before firing off more sonic attacks but each time, Shāng was quick to close the gaps.

This was much different than the training with his mother.

Shāng leapt backwards after Làng forced him away with the sonic attacks. He landed on the ground, keeping his distance this time, ducking behind a tree.

Làng watched him move, his ears taking over and mapping the world around him. The trees would hinder Làng’s sonic attacks. Clever, but that would only work so well. He listened to Shāng’s steps. It definitely wasn’t cover he was after. Shāng was far too direct and powerful a fighter for that. He was after something else, and Làng was intent on disrupting whatever that was. He wondered if Shāng would hear this one coming.

Loosening the strings on Líng Yá, Làng played a particularly strong note that didn’t have any visible attack. Instead it reverberated the trees nearby, causing them to crack with the qi he placed inside them.

Shāng leapt backwards, barely picking up the noise as the trees bent and quickly fell. Làng definitely had a different approach than Mù did. She likely would’ve pursued, using music as a distraction while drawing her blade. But Làng was different, choosing to use the environment in a very different way.

He quickly dodged as Làng fired off several sonic attacks. Driving his foot into the tree branches, he broke several off, firing them at Làng with his qi one by one.

Làng had seen this ability before though on a much larger scale. Shāng was capable of manipulating a multitude of branches to drive through his opponents. But this battle didn’t have the intent to kill. It was a test of strength and skill.

Làng easily dodged the branches, listening to them wizz past one by one. But they were a distraction, weren’t they? With the last branch fired, Shāng followed them towards the musician, dodging the redhead’s sonic attacks. He leapt upward, driving his sword downward. Làng blocked with Líng Yá, feeling the pressure of the attack drive his heels into the ground again.

The next blow, Shāng shifted his stance, driving his elbow at Làng. The impact didn’t strike Líng Yá hard. It was the qi that followed close behind so sharply that it went through the pipa and right into the musician’s midsection. The impact threw Làng backwards. Shāng quickly reached forward, snagging Làng’s collar to keep him from tumbling down the hill.

Làng stared at him for a moment as he gripped Líng Yá tightly still in a defensive position. He hadn’t expected that one. He knew full well Shāng was capable of extending qi past a weapon but to do it with an elbow? Shāng truly was a master of qi, that much was clear. Làng accepted the extended hand, standing firmly on his feet once again.

“You almost had me there a few times,” Shāng confessed. “I wasn’t expecting you to crack the trees in half.”

“I thought you were going to crack  _ me  _ in half!” Líng Yá fussed.

“Well that wasn’t  _ exactly  _ my intent,” Shāng admitted. “But it’s not like Làng was holding back either.”

“Not completely.” Làng rubbed his stomach. He could still feel the impact of the qi going right through him. He replaced some of the damage with some fresh qi, feeling everything back to normal pretty quickly. “I have no intent of cutting you in half with sound. It was a spar after all. Between friends.”

Shāng grinned. He had no intention of fully using his qi against Làng either. That elbow attack could’ve caused his insides to completely explode out his backside. But Làng was his friend, so no way would he use the full extent of his abilities. “I feel like I could better take on that sonic sword now.”

Shāng felt like he understood Làng just a bit better too. That refined movement from years of training, that passion that drove him, that uncanny ability to see with his ears. This wasn’t the same Làng he’d fought before. This was someone different, someone better, someone he dared to call friend. 

Làng nodded. He could understand Shāng’s style a bit more now that he’d experienced it for more than a few attacks. It was blunt but that was its strength. He didn’t need to be sharp like Làng’s attacks often were. Perhaps in a way, he could understand Shāng himself a bit more too. Shāng held everything back even with how brutal his style was. There was a controlled restraint Làng hadn’t noticed before.

Shāng was very different from him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t become strong friends and allies. He was definitely someone Làng could trust to have his back. A strange thought after everything he’d been through before now, something he was still trying to process. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had Shāng and Mù and even Líng Yá now.

“Though I wonder what would’ve happened if you had Líng Yá transform,” Shāng pondered.

“That’s only for bad guys!” Líng Yá answered. “Làng would be pissed off and probably go live in the mountains for the rest of his life if he used the sword on you and----- okay okay!” The pipa screeched as Làng silenced him.

Shāng laughed, placing a hand on Làng’s shoulder. “I get that.”

Làng turned towards the hut up the mountain. He heard the door of the cabin creak as it opened. “The brush is likely done.”

“Then let’s get it and seal those swords,” Shāng nodded.

“I’m sure you’ll get struck a few times in the head before we go!” Líng Yá teased.

Shāng sighed. The pipa was probably right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been wanting to write a spar between Làng and Shāng! I'd imagine at this stange in their friendship, this was the first time they'd actually sparred as friends and not enemies like in the movie. In current times, I bet they spar a lot to keep their skills up.


	12. Poorly drawn signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning from the forest, the group stumbles across poorly drawn wanted signs and a poorly laid out plan that really is just poorly executed.

The plan wasn’t exactly great, if one could really call it a plan. It actually was a particularly bad one, but their options were a bit thin at the moment. They intended to follow signs of destruction to track down the sword, and quickly came across the first town at the base of the mountain. Or what remained of it. The town had been completely flattened, leaving a pile of rubble and dead bodies in its place. There was no sign of Yīn Xiàtiān at all. She had already left.

Làng Wū Yáo still felt angry as they reached the next town, this one at least still standing and bustling with activity. It was such a senseless waste of life. A sword with that sort of power needed to be sealed in the Index sooner rather than later. Yīn Xiàtiān had to be taken down, preferably permanently, as she would simply come at them again and again with something more dangerous each time.

The Hunting Fox was at least easier to deal with, even though he’d also need to be dealt with sooner or later. Làng didn’t like him being alive and nipping at their heels much either. He wanted that imperial gone, but they had bigger problems at the moment. Namely two sorcerous swords in the hands of an obsessive assassin.

“We should find some food,” Mù Tiān Mìng suggested. “I can smell something good. Excuse me.” She called out to one of the passers-by. “Where is the market in this town?”

Her question was met with a panicked response as the man fled in fear.

“Well that was rude!” Líng Yá commented.

“Odd,” Shāng Bù Huàn commented as people who noticed them fled. “It’s like they think we’re villains.”

Làng turned, something along the wall catching his attention. Posted on the wall was a series of papers with drawings and writing scribbled down in simple characters. He frowned at the wall. So  _ this  _ was their approach. 

“What the hell is that fox bastard trying to pull?!” Líng Yá hissed.

Shāng and Mù turned quickly to what Làng had found. The drawings were their faces, crudely done at best. They looked more mocking than anything else, like a child’s drawing of someone they saw some time ago and forgot some rather important details. Their heads were very large with smaller bodies and oversized weaponry. It was terrible but close enough that the people recognized the trio from the signs.

“These drawings are terrible. They definitely didn’t do us any justice,” Mù observed, staring at her crude drawing. It was mostly a top knot with a crooked face and something that looked like a guqin. She looked like she was about to murder someone with it too. “They really made us look sinister.”

Shāng’s sign looked like a man with a long ponytail and his usual hair ornament but with ten different swords behind him and an evil devious grin on his face. He read the sign on his own poster. “‘Sword-plundering Nemesis. Dangerous. Wanted for stealing the Court Virtuoso and countless swords. 20 silver coins.’”

“You didn’t steal this guy!!” Líng Yá fussed.

“Well they are at least right about the swords,” Mù mused.

Làng frowned at his own drawing. It was his former self, the court virtuoso, in his white robes with a top knot. They had missed some details but it looked much more realistic than the other signs. So they were still trying to return him to that life he purposely left behind. He ripped the sign off the wall, crumpling it into a ball. Returning to the songbird life was absolutely not happening. Ever.

Shāng spotted a copy of the sign. “‘Court Virtuoso. Reward for return to her highness Princess Cháo Fēng. 200 silver coins.’ Damn, you’re expensive.” There was a second sign with Làng’s current appearance that read much like the poster for Shāng’s own face.  _ Aggressive bard, accomplice to the Sword-plundering Nemesis. 20 silver coins. _

Làng stared at the crumpled paper on the ground. He could still hear the princess’s words in his mind. She had claimed him much as one would claim property. It was how things once were, and at the time, he thought it was the only way to keep his supernatural voice away from people. He was being used like the sorcerous sword he believed himself to be, one used for everyone else’s desires. And for the princess, that desire was for a sadistic show of entertainment. He didn’t want to live that way anymore. “I am no one’s property.”

“Definitely not, Wū Yáo,” Mù placed a hand on his shoulder. She didn’t want to think of what the Hunting Fox or the sadistic princess would do to him if they managed to drag him back to the palace. But he was different now. He had seen the world wasn’t just a songbird’s cage and wouldn’t simply bend to their desires anymore.

Shāng scratched at the side of his face, annoyed. “Perhaps I should’ve continued to wear that hood.”

“They’ve seen our faces already,” Mù pointed out. “And they have two posters for Wū Yáo like he’s two different people. One is the old self and the other is the one who has made his own choices.”

“And the empire doesn’t like people who think for themselves and have morals,” Shāng added.

Làng fit both their descriptions pretty well. He had chosen to join them in this journey to fight the greatest evils in Xī Yōu and he did so of his own volition. He  _ chose _ this path himself, desiring to be his own person, a free songbird who wasn’t content in living up on that cold mountain and dying there alone. If he was going to go with someone, it would be two someones who gave more than half a damn about him. 

He tore down another sign of his former self, crumpling it into a ball and stepping on it.

Mù patted him on the shoulder. These signs were a reminder of everything he left behind. She took a sign herself and crumpled it. It was like the signs she’d seen posted before, challenging anyone to sing and battle against Làng to earn the title of Court Virtuoso. These had a monetary reward instead of a title, but that title was never exactly much of a reward given what it entailed. “We should head out before the Hunting Fox decides to sniff around.”

“Agreed,” Shāng nodded.

The next town offered even less hospitality with more troubling signs.

“‘Wanted for flattening multiple nearby towns with a dangerous stolen sword,’” Shāng frowned at the sign. This drawing was even worse, showing a crazed poorly drawn Shāng with a sword crushing a tiny town. “Still only 20 gold coins. You think it’d go up.”

“That’s not even accurate!” Líng Yá hissed. “It was that crazy obsessive buzzy bitch’s fault! But even if they knew it was her, I bet they’d peg it on us anyway!”

Shāng sighed. “That’s the empire for you. All the war crimes they’ve committed, they blame on us.”

“We knew when we started this that we would be pegged as villains,” Mù admitted. “But the swords in the empire’s hands would only be worse. They’d flatten more cities and leave them floating out into the ocean again.”

“Especially with that sonic sword,” Shāng agreed. “That Hunting Fox is likely trying to cut off our resources. I don’t expect anyone crazy enough to actually try to claim that prize, even if it would be enough for an entire city to live off for most of their lives.  _ But  _ that won’t stop imperials from trying.” He turned from the signs noticing that they had been surrounded by soldiers. 

Làng’s attention was focused further back, recognizing the malicious aura step closer and closer. Accompanying the steps was that familiar hat and annoying sinister snicker.

“You are truly something, Shāng Bù Huàn. Foolish enough to be pushed around by a bunch of signs until you ended up right on our laps,” Xiào Kuáng Juàn mused, pushing up his glasses as he stepped to the front of the imperial crowd.

“Of course it’s that fox bastard!” Líng Yá hissed.

“Not really a plan if you just wait and hope we happen by,” Shāng commented.

Làng hadn’t changed his stance, his hand poised by the strings as he prepared for a fight. He wasn’t going to go with the Hunting Fox no matter how much money was on his head. He no longer was that sword with no will of his own.

“How rude,” Xiào pushed his glasses up his nose before extending a hand towards Làng. “Come, Court Virtuoso. Come home to where you belong. The princess has been waiting for you.”

Mù frowned. “He certainly goes back and forth between wanting to kill you and then kidnap you, Wū Yáo.” It explained the conflicting signs they’d seen showing both the former and current Làng with different information and rewards.

Líng Yá shouted, “I bet he wants to claim those 200 silver coins for himself!”

“I am a man of the  _ law _ ,” the Hunting Fox insisted, though that smug smile suggested otherwise.

“One that got his promotion by stepping on this guy and selling him off to that sadist princess!” Líng Yá hissed.

“It was better than the alternative, was it not, Làng Wū Yáo?” Xiào pointed out.

Làng scowled. It  _ was _ better than the alternative, rotting in jail for something he didn’t know he was involved in, but that didn’t mean he had to like Xiào for it. “You still used me.”

Shāng peered at Làng. So that was the connection he had with the Hunting Fox. Leave it to someone like him to walk all over Làng and use him to gain a promotion. The musician truly was constantly being used before he decided to become his own person. It was a good thing he made that decision. No one should be pushed around like that.

Xiào shook his head. What a troublesome songbird. As he reached for his sword to bark a command, he leapt backwards, barely dodging several sonic attacks. The soldiers beside him weren’t so lucky. “That you would forsake such a high position. You had the whole world and the princess’s affection.”

Làng glared at him. “I am no one’s property.”

“Screw off!” Líng Yá hissed.

“So that’s your answer,” Xiào grinned, baring his teeth. “Kill them. Leave the musician alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am endlessly amused by the idea that Xiao's plans early on were all accidental. His promotion was sort of accidental, as he had no idea what Lang could do. His finding Shang and Mu's hideout in the movie could've been done with investigation but it also could've been stumbling around until they found the right place. He definitely seemed to not realize it was a hideout until Shang and Mu hadn't fled. So here's a pretty poor plan that accidentally worked. Good job, Xiao!
> 
> I am also amused by bad guys using signs to annoy Shang, so it had to be done. Chibi angry vicious Shang with an arsenal full of swords! Ha!


	13. Imperial Ballad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xiào thinks he has the group cornered, and Làng thinks otherwise.

Xiào Kuáng Juàn had barely barked the order for attack as he drew his sword. He knew full well that Shāng Bù Huàn and his little posse wouldn’t go without a fight. But the musician. Làng Wū Yáo was another story. Xiào had practically pushed Làng’s face into the dirt as he stepped on him to gain his very high position. It was hardly a challenge at the time, the musician barely with a will of his own.

But this one standing before him, the red-clad musician with a talking pipa. This Làng was disappointingly different. He’d become stubborn, no doubt after being kidnapped by that villain Shāng. The Sword-plundering Nemesis must’ve put some ideas into the pushover bard’s head and turned him against the empire in a fruitless hunt for sorcerous swords that didn’t belong to them.

Claiming that reward for himself would be more difficult than he’d hoped.

Làng would need to be beaten into submission again, then the princess would have her songbird and Xiào would have a massive reward.

Shāng glanced at the Hunting Fox who hadn’t taken his eyes off Làng once. Normally it was Shāng himself that took all the attention with his supposedly villainous reputation as the Sword-plundering Nemesis but today was different. That Fox truly wanted the reward for himself, didn’t he?

He noticed Làng was returning the stare. Làng had been through a lot, constantly being used as a sharpened blade, and the Hunting Fox had used him to further his own position. Just thinking about how much Xiào had used Làng just ticked Shāng off. He could only imagine how much Làng himself was ticked off about it.

“We’ll take care of the small fry.” Shāng placed a hand on Làng’s shoulder. “And leave the Fox to you.”

Làng nodded as Shāng and Mù Tiān Mìng took opposite sides.

Shāng withdrew his sword, the force of his qi blasting leaves off the nearby tree. The imperials didn’t flinch. They never did, set on their ways of serving the empire. Perhaps they didn’t realize the evils of the empire. Perhaps it was just easier. It wasn’t something he thought about much, though each life he slayed always weighed on him.

He glanced around. The civilians had fled for cover, leaving a clear open field for them to fight in. He’d rather avoid more civilian bodies piling up than already were with that sonic sword still floating around.

“Don’t suppose you’d prefer dumplings over a fight, huh,” Shāng said.

“Get him!” the imperials shouted.

Not that he honestly expected a different answer. He was still hungry, but food could come  _ after  _ a fight. A wide arching slash of his sword took the heads clean off the closest imperials. This would be an easy task had it not been the sheer number Xiào had taken with him. Turning his sword, he jammed it into the ground. The qi shockwave pushed them backwards and into the nearby pots along the walls.

On the opposite side, Mù pulled the strings of her guqin to fire off razor sonic attacks, slicing off several arms. A quick shift in her stance, she pulled the blade from the top of the guqin, jamming it between the ribs of the pair who attempted to attack her from behind.

Làng stood in between his two companions. Before him was Xiào along with a handful of imperials who hadn’t split off to fight the other two.

Xiào snickered. “So they left you alone, hm?”

Làng didn’t honor the remark with a verbal reply. He knew what they were doing and trusted them to back him up if he needed. He would do the same. In his battle with Shāng, he understood the man’s fighting style much more clearly. He knew Mù’s from the battle at the palace. He’d fought alongside both at the old master’s house when the Index was first made. The more he stayed with them, the more he realized this as a truth. They had his back, and he had theirs.

The imperials approached swords drawn and swinging at him. The musician easily dodged each one, jamming a foot or the pipa into each one and sending them flying. They were no more a threat than the ones at the palace. Their numbers might be troubling but with the other two thinning them out, he focused on the Hunting Fox.

Làng pulled the pipa’s strings, the sonic attacks singing out over the sounds of battle. Xiào used the soldiers as a shield, letting them take the brunt of the attack while he remained unharmed.

“What a slimy bastard!” Líng Yá remarked. Not that Làng would expect anything less from the Fox anyway. Xiào had no problem using the people around him, Làng himself included.

The musician had no hesitation about taking out the imperials, especially if that meant he could focus his attention on Xiào after them. They were meaningless soldiers with evil in their hearts. He dropped Líng Yá to the ground, a soundwave shooting out in all directions. It sliced the posters hanging on the wall behind him and shattered the leaves on the nearby bushes. The soldiers before him didn’t fare much better.

Shāng recognized the sound, leaping upward and letting the soundwave handle the closest soldiers. Perhaps that spar with Làng did him some good with sounds. He landed back down, finding more soldiers had taken the fallen ones’ places. He was starting to wonder where they all came from. Perhaps there were more soldiers here than ordinary civilians in this town.

Mù found the same result on her side. Xiào was certainly trying to overwhelm them. She turned, firing off several sonic blasts and slicing the soldiers that had broken away from her group with the intent on attacking Làng.

Làng sidestepped the flying bodies as he placed his hand on the top of the pipa.

“Líng Yá, transform!” The pipa turned into sword form as Làng took him to his hand.

The musician leapt forward, slashing downward and forcing Xiào to fight him directly. The Fox withdrew his serrated sword, blocking the attack. They exchanged several blows, the attacks pushing Xiào backward. The Fox knew what damage that sword could cause, particularly in the hands of someone who literally was a supernatural sword, so perhaps a different approach was necessary.

“That villain Shāng Bù Huàn truly has changed you for the worse,” Xiào mocked Làng.

The musician scowled at the Fox. Shāng had in a sense changed him but not for the worse. He opened Làng’s eyes to the possibility of doing something good with his voice and his supernatural abilities. Mù had told him the words that he needed to hear, that he wasn’t just a blade but someone with a heart and soul. They helped him understand he could actually be something more than someone everyone else stepped on to further their own desires.

The Fox withdrew a blade from his robes as he grinned. Làng quickly drove his boot into Xiào, pushing him backwards as he forced a separation between them. Làng landed, driving his heel into the ground as he flung Líng Yá upward, transforming him back to pipa form. Catching Líng Yá, Làng pulled the strings and flung several sonic blasts at the Fox.

The blasts struck the Fox, throwing him backwards into a hut. He pushed himself out of the rubble, seething at how this bard had managed to counter him. And now his robe was ripped. Did he not realize how expensive it was to repair this? He would pay for those costs with the bounty on his songbird head.

Làng leapt forward, pipa in hand as he drove it towards the Fox. Xiào blocked with his sword, though the impact pushed the Fox back nearly into the broken hut again.

Làng heard the footsteps of soldiers behind him, their blades drawn with the intent of overwhelming him in battle. A blast of qi carrying a bamboo bench barreled behind the musician, taking them out easily.

“Do you truly think they’re your friends, Làng Wū Yáo?” Xiào smirked. “They’re protecting their blade, just so you can fight their battles for them.”

“You’re full of crap!” Líng Yá hissed as Làng attempted to drive the pipa forward.

“You were much better off with the princess,” the Fox continued. “Meals, a place to perform, a roof always over your head. How could you willingly give that up in exchange for being a sword-stealing accomplice and vagabond!”

“Enough!” Làng didn’t want to hear any more of this. He drove his heel into Xiào’s chest, pushing him to the ground. Repeatedly he stomped on him until the Fox wasn’t moving anymore. He wasn’t dead, but he’d definitely wake up with a cracked rib or two. He could kill him right there, drive Líng Yá as a blade right through his heart, but he didn’t. This man would cause them so many problems. Làng could just feel it.

He had the pipa held above the Hunting Fox, ready to slam the instrument down into his unconscious form, but instead he turned and fired off several sonic attacks, taking out several of the soldiers attempting to sneak up on Mù.

If he killed Xiào right here, he would be taking revenge for how much hell Xiào put him through. He’d be no better than the empire, and that was a path he did not want to take. Shāng and Mù once told him about the cycle of revenge and why they stole swords instead of giving them to the opposition. It was a cycle of death Làng didn’t want to be entangled in with his own experiences. Instead Làng could use Líng Yá against more deserving targets, namely Yīn Xiàtiān and her destructive swords.

The remaining imperials soon fell, leaving a bloody battlefield in their wake. The civilians were cowering behind walls and huts, afraid that the group would turn against them as well.

“I definitely don’t think the Hunting Fox will be bothering us for awhile,” Shāng observed as he sheathed his sword. “That’ll give us plenty of time to find Yīn Xiàtiān and seal those swords.” He stared down at Xiào’s battered, unmoving form. “Are you okay with just leaving him here like this?”

Làng nodded. While he hadn’t killed Xiào, he had to admit it felt good to give the Hunting Fox a piece of his mind in the form of a boot jammed into his ribcage. Làng was his own blade and no one else's, not even the empire’s. And right now, that blade decided there were more important matters at hand, particularly those destructive sorcerous swords and the assassin who had them in her possession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this really went the way Xiào had hoped.


	14. Breaded information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Xiào Kuáng Juàn currently beaten into the ground, it's time to figure out where Yīn Xiàtiān went. Seems she's been busy.

The trail of destruction had suddenly gone cold. The border towns were left standing with no reports of early cicadas, unusual behaviors, earthquakes, or loud sounds. Nothing. It left the group uneasy, uncertain if Yīn Xiàtiān had taken the sword to Huò Shì Míng Huáng or had fled the region alone. She certainly hadn’t come after Làng lately, leaving it a mystery as to what she was actually planning.

Shāng Bù Huàn purchased a few of his favorite shaobing bread for himself and his friends. He tucked them into a cloth, turning to listen to the pair playing music in the plaza. Mù Tiān Mìng and Làng Wū Yáo played the same tune he heard them sing in the mountains though the latter wasn’t singing at the moment. 

“Say,” the merchant leaned on the stall. “Aren’t you the one asking around town about earthquakes?”

“Yeah,” Shāng turned back to the stall. “Have you heard something?”

“I’ll tell everything but those two musician friends of yours need to keep playing,” the merchant indicated Mù and Làng playing nearby.

Shāng frowned, turning. “They’re not for sale.”

“No no no,” the merchant quickly shook his head, grabbing for Shāng’s sleeve. “That’s not what I mean. See those two munchkins sitting on the side?” he pointed at two young boys sitting calmly at the front of the crowd. They rocked side to side, listening to the tune. “Those are our two sons. They’re at the age where they can be obnoxious brats. This is the first time in weeks my wife has had some peace. Play a little longer and I’ll even throw in some extra shaobing and a place to stay.”

“A moment.” Shāng parted from the stall. It seemed like a simple trade off for some extra food and information. He approached the pair of musicians, leaning over and quietly explaining the offer. They nodded and Shāng headed back to the stall. “They’ll play longer, but we’ll be declining the offer to stay.”

With the people after them, staying at anyone’s place was too much of a risk for a kind merchant family and their desire for a little peace from screaming kids. The Hunting Fox was enough of a problem, but if Yīn attacked in the night, this family would not survive to the next morning.

The merchant frowned a bit but understood. He was a stranger offering musicians a place to stay in an unfamiliar town. It did seem a bit forward, though his desire for some peace and quiet outweighed the risk of strangers in his home. “Are you familiar with the peninsula just past the forest?”

Shāng nodded. The peninsula was several days away but still on the outskirts of the empire. They had long since become part of it but were far enough away that they weren’t exactly the die-hard loyal type. As far as Shāng knew, the peninsula hadn’t seen any war crimes using a sorcerous sword yet, though other regions that bordered the sea had seen absolute destruction.

“My brother came from trading there recently,” the merchant explained. “He said there were no fewer than 3 earthquakes the short time he was there. Some sort of noise too. But he never saw any destruction there until he left. A large crack in the ground across the road that definitely wasn’t there before.”

Shāng scratched at his chin. That had to be Yīn though until now, she had stayed within the forested regions where they were as she attempted to take Làng for herself. But after the brush was broken, Shāng, Làng, and Mù had retreated high into the mountains, seemingly disappearing for quite some time. She likely had attempted to catch their attention with destruction then moved elsewhere.

Perhaps somewhere where Huò Shì Míng Huán couldn’t reach her either.

“I hope that helps,” the merchant shoved some more shaobing bread at him. The good stuffed kind too. “Whatever you’re after, I hope you find it.”

Shāng offered a polite bow, accepting the offered bread and tucking it away. He returned to his companions, standing behind them and keeping a watchful eye for imperials or cicadas. The latter was still a problem given that Shāng couldn’t sense the illusions like Làng could, yet with the new information, Yīn’s bugs were likely somewhere else.

They had stomped Xiào Kuáng Juàn into the ground, but Shāng wouldn’t put it past him to just call more soldiers and use them as fodder until he himself healed. A fight here would be deadly for this town, as Xiào and his imperials cared little for the commonfolk. But the whole time, no one came and in the later hours of the afternoon, they concluded their songs with a bowl brimming with coins.

As night fell and the crickets sang their tune, the trio left the town. They retreated some ways off the path and into the forest, setting up a campfire for the night. Làng stretched out, leaning against a tree as he plucked some notes in between bites of the shaobing. The bread was fresh and delicious, much better than the lumpy soup they’d had before. Not that Shāng wasn’t trying to feed them well of course.

It was perhaps the easiest exchange for food. Some notes to entertain some troublesome children while making coins and obtaining information.

“To think that insect freak had retreated south!” Líng Yá said as Làng took a moment to eat the bread. “Man, what a pain.”

“It explains why we haven’t seen her for a while,” Mù picked apart the shaobing before consuming a piece. “It also explains why the town we encountered looked like it had been struck some time ago. But of all places to go...”

“The peninsula is rather remote,” Shāng agreed. “She could smash every town from here to there, but it didn’t happen. She doesn’t exactly strike me as the merciful type.”

“I must’ve struck her harder than I thought,” Làng recalled their recent encounters.

“During the last battle?” Mù questioned.

Làng nodded. “Right before she fled, I struck her leg with sound.” With the blasting rubble and dirt kicked up with the sonic sword’s attack, it was difficult to tell just how hard he’d hit her. She disappeared right after, taking the form of a cicada swarm without making any noise from the injury. He could’ve easily missed, but he was still certain he’d struck her in that battle.

“I bet that pissed her right off!” Líng Yá added.

“No doubt,” Mù agreed. “Especially with the attack coming from Wū Yáo himself.”

“Explains why she didn’t follow us into the mountains despite our own injuries,” Shāng rubbed his chin. “I reason she couldn’t find us after she emerged, but still, the peninsula is a pretty odd choice. She could be biding her time, honestly. The summer cicadas will be out soon. It’ll be harder for Làng to counter her own cicadas, and we’ve seen how bad I am at doing it.”

Làng frowned at the bread in his hand.

“We’ll figure something out,” Shāng consoled him. “We have several days to get to the peninsula. And even if we don’t, well, we’ve winged worse.”

“I’m starting to think ‘winging it’ is the only option,” Mù agreed. “Our plans haven’t exactly gone well lately.”

“Well it was much easier to plan when it was mostly imperials,” Shāng frowned. “Knock a few heads together, make the Hunting Fox angry, flee with the sword. Huò Shì Míng Huán’s assassins make everything a bit more difficult, especially when they start taking their own agenda.”

Làng frowned, consuming the last of the bread in his hand. He didn’t like this ‘own agenda’ at all. Imperials were easier to deal with, especially since he had an understanding of them from being trapped on the inside. They were evil, meant to be taken down. Aside from Xiào Kuáng Juàn, they were all idiots anyway. The assassins were more clever, and that made them more of a threat. That didn’t mean they  _ couldn’t _ be taken down, of course, and he intended to take Yīn down no matter what.

“She definitely seems to be operating on her own,” Mù agreed. “I honestly thought Huò Shì Míng Huán’s posse was a bit more loyal than that.”

“She’s become an obsessive bitch!” Líng Yá pointed out.

“I feel like that’s understating things, but yes,” Mù said. “Obsessive and injured. That can make someone quite dangerous.”

Shāng frowned. Things really were trying to work against them. An obsessive assassin, poorly timed imperial interventions, the arrival of actual summer cicadas. “Dangerous or not, it might just take all three of us to do this.”

“Very likely.” She stood up, gathering the light blankets for the night. “We should get some rest for now,” Mù suggested. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaobing bread is what Shāng is often eating in the series. It is a flat bread that can come plain but it also can come stuffed with delicious goodies. The type in the show has sesame seeds on top. The TBF Twitter noted that Shāng's favorite food is shaobing (Làng's is apparently tilapia!). While I love me some dumplings, I had to include Shāng's favorite food at least once.
> 
> I am also endlessly amused by the idea of Shāng being an absolute terrible but somehow good cook (headcanon, though I wouldn't be surprised if this somehow ended up being true) and that they earn their funds by singing in plazas. Naturally they'd come across a merchant who wanted some peace and quiet from obnoxious kids at least once.


	15. Cicada Hums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they find the "crack" described by the shaobing merchant, the cicadas sing their summer songs.

“I don’t think that merchant knows what a crack is, man!” Líng Yá commented.

A crack didn’t sufficiently describe what was now in their path. It was a gap several feet across and so deep that none of them could see the bottom. A makeshift bridge spanned the gap made of wooden planks so that merchants could continue to travel across it.

“Well the information was secondhand, though I honestly expected ‘large crack’ to be an exaggeration,” Shāng Bù Huàn frowned, rubbing at his chin.

“It wasn’t exaggerated enough!” Líng Yá pointed out.

Shāng followed the crack with his gaze, noticing it was slightly larger the closer it got to the forest to the west. He rubbed at his face with his sleeve. The weather certainly was warmer in the southern regions this time of year. “Given the timeframe,  _ if _ the merchant’s tale was accurate, this ravine is recent and happened within the few days that the brother was in the southern town.”

“And given our travel time it’s possible she’s already moved again,” Mù Tiān Mìng pointed out.

Làng Wū Yáo turned back towards their path where they left the last town behind. A buzzing noise had started without warning, the cries of summer singing out in the afternoon sun, but he couldn’t sense anything that felt like a threat. It was just buzzing.

Mù followed his gaze back to their treed path. She wrinkled her brow, spotting the bugs on the trees buzzing away. “I hear them too. The summer cicadas have awoken. I was hoping we’d have a bit more time before they emerged. This could really complicate things.”

Shāng sighed. Everything really was working against them right now. A plan of action would be particularly difficult with actual cicadas now in the mix. Not that plans had been particularly working for them lately. It was honestly what they were trying to avoid.

“I know you’re from the colder regions. Have you heard cicadas before, Wū Yáo?” she turned to him.

Làng nodded. “Briefly at the palace.” He closed his eyes, stepping towards the trees and listening to the buzz, stopping only a few feet away from his companions. He recalled this sound. He listened to it from the window in his room while stuffed into the palace. It was a spacious room, much larger than his entire hut in the mountains and where he stayed at the taverns. But even with how unnecessarily large it was, it still had felt like a cage.

Then he’d heard the sound one afternoon just outside his window. It was warm that day, marking the onset of the summer months. “Can you hear them? They’re singing.” He felt the same way that first afternoon. It was a song he’d never heard before, bugs singing out in a chorus just out of reach. They were singing freely, not caged up like he was.

Shāng closed his eyes, attempting to listen. “It just sounds like buzzing.”

Làng smiled, amused. Perhaps the notion was all in his head, an association of that freedom that his soul had cried out for. He’d ignored that desire for so long, pushing all the supernatural songs and the pain in his heart into Líng Yá. He didn’t know that there  _ was _ another path for someone like him. He was a supernatural blade, one to be wielded by those more powerful. At least they  _ felt _ more powerful at the time. He had his own resolve now and knew that they no longer had a hold over him.

Mù stepped up beside him, listening to the songs as well. “They are singing the songs of summer.”

Shāng sighed. Leave it to the two musicians to understand this buzzing noise better than he ever could.

Làng recalled how he felt listening to their song the first time. “Their bodies, their instrument; the world, their stage. They sing only for so long, a seasonal concert only those who listen may hear.”

She watched the cicadas perched on the trees, singing out their chorus in the early summer heat. “Do Yīn Xiàtiān’s cicadas not sing?”

Làng placed a hand on his ear. He still recalled the painful buzz in his head that brought him to his knees. He recalled the buzzing from the last battle, the sounds of their approach, their movements in battle. “Their songs are like a broken string filled with malice.” He had almost forgotten the songs he heard in the palace, but this trading route had reminded him of something pleasant from his caged past.

“A broken string.” Mù closed her eyes, trying to recall the sounds from the last battle. She tried to separate them from the other noise of the battle, the sounds the sorcerous sword had made, and Yīn’s desire to make Làng’s song hers. It wasn’t easy to separate. Her hearing wasn’t quite like his. Hers ordinary hearing, and his was fueled by supernatural abilities.

She knew what a broken string sounded like. She played a stringed instrument herself. But to imagine a broken string with malice was a bit harder. There were aggressive tunes, ones with darker tones and even darker lyrics. Imagining them as a cicada was certainly a strange thought. He also could hear malice while she could not. The description made more sense that way.

“I wonder what would happen if Yīn Xiàtiān took command of these cicadas,” Mù pondered.

“They would sing a foul tune,” Làng replied with certainty.

“That will make it much harder for her to hide amongst the summer cicadas,” Shāng observed. “I wonder if she knows the different tunes.”

“Perhaps,” Làng considered the thought.

“But it’s not likely that buzzing obsessive freak would know that we know!” Líng Yá added.

“That’s a good point,” Shāng nodded. “It’s pretty unlikely she knows how good your hearing is and how much you can hear.” Not that Shāng understood it completely himself. He knew that Làng could practically map out the world with his hearing and hear more conceptual sounds like good and evil, but Shāng knew that from  _ knowing  _ him.

Yīn likely understood some amount of this after targeting Làng’s hearing directly. Any ordinary person with a cicada in their ear would be crying in pain regardless, but Làng’s attempt to continue fighting  _ despite _ the noise was enough to indicate he was capable of understanding the world in a different way.

And the assassins were more intelligent than the imperials, at the very least. Yīn probably thought of all of this already. To some extent.

Làng turned, peering past Shāng towards the treeline further away. Birds suddenly scattered into the skies as the treetops swayed irregularly. A sour note barely resounded over the cicada’s songs.

“Well that answers if she’s still in the area,” Shāng reasoned, seeing the visual signs of the earthquake-like effect. “We know where to find her.”

Làng didn’t quite like the idea of heading into whatever mess she was creating in that forest. They would be heading into her domain, and each time they encountered her, it was always as if she were controlling the environment. Buildings gave them a slight advantage for a place to land and cover, but cover only meant so much for a sword that could crack the land like it did where they stood.

He placed a hand on Shāng’s shoulder, stopping him before he left. Perhaps they didn’t have a choice. “The cicadas have changed their tune. It has become foul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been teasing about the summer cicadas. Well here they are!
> 
> Làng's hearing is so sensitive and tuned to everything, I would imagine that he could tell the difference between normal cicadas and Yīn's. He has to hear something when it comes to illusions. They likely make a different sound. But if the memory was linked to his time in the palace, he would've tried to push it from his mind. Just like he wants to forget a bug in his ear. Gross.


	16. Rhythmic Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say that desperate women with dangerous swords are a bad combination. Yīn Xiàtiān seems to fit that statement quite well.

Làng Wū Yáo heard the cicada’s tune change. It was no longer that chorus singing about the summer heat. The notes had quickly turned sour and out of tune, much like strings pulled aggressively until they snapped. They suddenly filled with malice, screaming loudly in a cacophonous warning that something was coming.

“Well that saves us the challenge of actually tracking you down, doesn’t it, Yīn Xiàtiān?” Shāng Bù Huàn said. It was just as Làng had suggested. The cicadas changed their tune when Yīn was near. He still couldn’t hear it but he trusted Làng’s ears to pick up on the difference.

A shrill laugh followed the buzzing of insects as Yīn appeared before them. She held the sonic sword against her almost like an instrument, running a finger along the strings as she plucked a strange tune. She had used the newly awoken summer cicadas to her advantage, buzzing around as a distraction to keep them on edge. She hid one of her own cicadas among them, searching for the group and her beloved bard. The rumors of the earthquakes had indeed attracted her prey, and soon she would make the songbird hers forever.

Làng frowned. The sword’s tune was awful. But something else was off about her other than the terrible tune. It was her right ankle. It was made entirely of bugs tightly packed together, causing her steps to be off-kilter when she landed. She gingerly shifted her weight to her left leg instead to compensate for the injury.

“Don’t suppose you’ll just put down those swords and listen to music, huh,” Shāng said.

Yīn bellowed a laugh. “What a fool! And you dare call yourself worthy to stand by my dear Wū Yáo’s side?! What a joke! I’ll dispose of you and that  _ other  _ musician and take my dear bard for myself!”

“Way to piss her off, genius!” Líng Yá fussed.

“Some people cannot be reasoned with, you know,” Mù Tiān Mìng frowned.

Shāng shrugged. Not that he expected that to work but it was worth a try. He wasn’t even sure if Huò Shì Míng Huáng's assassins  _ could  _ be reasoned with. Yīn seemed less likely to consider the notion, fully locked on to her obsession with Làng’s voice.

Làng didn’t wait for the other two to make a move. He leapt forward, pulling at the pipa’s strings and firing off several sonic attacks. He aimed for her feet specifically, pushing her backwards and listening to her steps. It was just as he thought. Her footing was off, and she was relying on cicadas to keep her right ankle together. He could hear them crunch as she leapt backwards to avoid his attacks.

He dropped Líng Yá to the ground, the impact forcing her backwards even more.

If he could take out that leg, he could end this battle fast.

“Are they having you fight their battles now?” Yīn mocked him.

“I fight my own battles,” Làng replied, pressing on the top of Líng Yá. The pipa transformed into sword form and he leapt forward. He slashed widely at her several times, the trail of qi following his movements.

She responded by stepping backwards several times until finally drawing the sonic sword up to block the attack. The resulting impact cracked the ground around both of them, driving Làng’s heels into the ground as she pressed back against him.

He certainly was being a troublesome little songbird, wasn’t he? But it was just like when she fought him at the last village and he nearly took off her entire foot. It was useless now, and she was angry at him for it. She took that anger out on a handful of villages and half the peninsula. She’d beat him into submission so he had no choice but to play beautiful songs for her for the rest of his life.

She pulled the sword backwards just enough to create a sound.

Làng leapt backwards, transforming Líng Yá back to pipa form. He quickly pulled on the strings to create a defensive barrier as the sonic sword’s attack bore down on him, cracking the land around him and threatening to drive his heels further into the ground. He nearly dropped to a knee to prevent damage to his legs from the soundwave. Her time spent out on the peninsula had certainly refined her skills, and that would make taking the sword much more difficult.

He would need to resort to stronger moves to counter this sound, wondering just how far he could push his abilities. The training he endured at his mother’s hands had taught him a lot, but since deciding to be his own blade, he found new ways to use the supernatural abilities he’d not thought of before.

Làng continued to keep lower to the ground as a multitude of tree branches laced with qi soared past him. He quickly found Shāng and Mù standing behind him and his sonic shield.

“You alright, Wū Yáo?” Mù worried.

The bard nodded.

“Seems she’s improved her skill with the sword quite a bit since retreating here to the peninsula,” Shāng frowned, his sword still drawn and ready for another attack. “How troublesome. We need to get that sword back from her.”

“Her right ankle,” Làng informed them. “It is composed of cicadas.”

“So that’s why she hasn’t used them against us yet,” Mù observed. “We could use that to our advantage, but a desperate woman with a deadly sword can resort to dangerous things.”

“True, but it’ll be worse if we leave it in her hands,” Shāng frowned. “Or if Huò Shì Míng Huáng or the empire get their hands on it…”

“None of those options are good,” Mù shook her head. “That leaves us only one.”

“That it does,” Shāng agreed.

Làng stood up tall as his companions broke away from his shield. There was only one option in his mind as well. Yīn Xiàtiān needed to die. Someone with that much evil in her heart and willing to murder towns and innocent people couldn’t be left to wander this world. They would need to pull out all the stops to take her down and seal those swords.

He leapt upward into the air as Yīn fired off several sonic attacks with the sword.

Mù landed, quickly dashing forward with her guqin’s blade drawn. Yīn was definitely favoring using the sword’s attacks instead of her usual trickery. She noticed that more now that Làng had mentioned the injury. Mù wasn’t certain how long that favoring would last given the battle was three-to-one, but if they could end the battle quickly, she would resort to a few tricks herself.

Letting go of the sword, she let her qi carry it towards Yīn as a distraction. Her true intention was to strike the right leg with her razor-sharp sonic attacks.

Yīn quickly responded, leaping backwards and landing only on the left leg then leaping upward once again as Shāng nearly caught her on the opposite side. “Insects!” hissed at them. She glanced at Làng, barely seeing him fire off several attacks and twisting in the air to avoid them. She landed on both feet, the pain shaking her right leg immensely as the cicadas crushed under her weight.

“Hand over the swords, Yīn Xiàtiān,” Shāng demanded.

Yīn laughed shrilly. “Do you think it’ll be that easy?!”

Shāng frowned. He honestly didn’t think it would be. “You would throw your life away and never hear a song again?”

“Me? Throw my life away?” she took to her feet as the cicadas condensed to support her right leg again. “Who says I’m throwing  _ mine _ away. I’m just getting rid of yours!”

Làng pulled at the pipa’s strings, sending a pair of sonic attacks forward. Nearly at Yīn, they suddenly turned, whizzing past both Mù and Shāng closely across their fronts. The attack created a terrible crackling crunch as cicadas manifested, falling dead to the ground.

“You think you can sneak a fast one up on this guy’s companions, you psycho buzzy bitch?!” Líng Yá jeered. “He’s wise to your sneaky attacks now!”

Yīn stared at Làng. His hearing was much better than she had reasoned. He had fallen to her sneak attacks once, but it was becoming much clearer that technique wouldn’t work a second time.

But there was one thing that was always a guarantee to get him to do what she wanted. This sonic sword was her key to the cage that would make that songbird hers forever. It was incredibly powerful and the only way to counter it was with powerful songs. The only one who could pull that off was Làng. There was a caveat. There always was. Làng could fight and sing at the same time.

There was still the trouble of the other two. Another musician who could also fight and that mystery. He held the Index and somehow he’d  _ retrieved _ the devastating swords within them.

The swords and that Index....

Oh this would work out in her favor. She could take them down and obtain the Index. She could take it to her master and also have the songbird for herself. Without the little posse with him, Làng would surely lose his will to fight and surrender his song to her. Now to force Shāng to reveal the Index so she could snatch it.

“I’ll show you the true power of the Cicada’s Song!” Yīn leapt into the air, her right leg disappearing as cicadas swarmed around her. Drawing the sonic sword over her head, she quickly drew it downward. The sound was intense, causing the land around to shake violently. The makeshift bridge across the previous fissure cracked and fell into the recesses as it began to shift closed. The trees behind Làng burst apart from the echoing noise.

A new fissure began to form, forcing the group to split apart. Làng had nearly been caught in the center, leaping towards Shāng as the deep ravine formed.

“A desperate woman could resort to dangerous measures, huh,” Shāng frowned.

“What gave you the idea we got to that point?!” Líng Yá hissed.

Shāng and Làng backed up as the fissure widened and hundreds of cicadas burst out from within the ground.

Shāng frowned. “Well this isn’t good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well no, Shāng, this is indeed not good.
> 
> I thought a lot about what Yīn could really do with cicadas. Honestly they're not that threatening, aren't poisonous, don't bite, and make a lot of noise. But she's found a way to create her own limb and summon an army of cicadas at her command. She can use them to spy and well we know the fun cicada-in-the-ear trick from the start of the story. I do wonder what she plans on doing with this wall of cicadas. Is there some secret technique she knows? Hmmm.
> 
> We're on the final stretch. Prepare yourselves!


	17. Entwined melodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With thousands of cicadas now pouring out of the ground, what is Yīn's true intent? Is she really throwing her life away after reaching a point of desperation?

Hundreds upon hundreds of cicadas flew up from the fissure that formed in the earth. They had been sleeping within the ground, waiting until the time was right to emerge and sing their summer songs. They were awoken early, screaming out in a deafening roar of anger and irritation.

Shāng Bù Huàn and Làng Wū Yáo were stuck on one side of the fissure while Mù Tiān Mìng was on the other. Not quite the separation that Yīn Xiàtiān was hoping for, but now this broke apart their team just enough to make a difference. She’d let the cicadas take out Mù and handle the other pair on her own. There were hundreds of cicadas now at her command, more than enough to handle a single musician.

Mù was trapped by herself, unable to see past the wall of angry cicadas. Some broke off, barreling towards her and surrounding her. She leapt away from them, but they followed her moments with ease. So this was the power of a cicada assassin, able to control swarms of cicadas with a silent command. Had Yīn been holding back this whole time or was she simply driven to a point of desperation, resorting to the most dangerous attacks? If she used too much qi, there was no point of return and she would die before the summer’s end, much like a cicada eventually withered by the onset of fall.

“Silent reverie!” Mù commanded, flinging a massive burst of sound from her guqin. It thinned the swarm but more cicadas came to replace them, attempting to overwhelm her.

She pulled the blade from her guqin, using qi to circle it around her while sending multiple sonic strikes out in all directions. She had to keep these cicadas physically off her. If one crawled into her ear, she surely would go down. She didn’t have Làng’s incredibly sensitive hearing, but she couldn’t imagine the experience being exactly  _ pleasant _ . Especially when the cicadas were packed with qi.

She had to fight them off, to reunite with the others and stop this crazy assassin. If Yīn poured this much qi into the sonic sword, she could possibly shake apart half the peninsula.

Yīn laughed shrilly. There was no way that musician girl could hold her own against such a strong and deadly swarm for long. Mù’d tire herself out and eventually succumb to them, becoming food. Her body would be picked apart and the qi stolen from Mù and sent back to Yīn in the end. She fed off her victim’s qi, just like she’d fed off Làng’s when they first met. A victim with as much qi as Mù had could replenish her own stores and keep them full until the next summer.

“Yīn Xiàtiān is pouring out massive amounts of qi to control all those cicadas,” Shāng observed. “She truly is throwing her life away. How reckless.”

Làng could barely hear Mù’s attacks over the sounds of the cicadas. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t so easily go down in a fight like this. Yet that qi poured into the cicadas had him concerned what Yīn’s true intentions were.

The assassin could leave the cicadas to handle Mù while Yīn focused the whole of her attention on Shāng and Làng and that Sorcerous Sword index. “One pest squashed.” She had considered for a moment keeping the Index for herself, but the reward her master would give her plus keeping the songbird for herself would be all too sweet. “Sing for me, my dear bard!”

Làng tightened the strings on the pipa as she swung the sonic sword, quickly plucking the notes to use sound to block the sound. He hated the notion of giving her what she wanted, but his voice was far more powerful in countering the attacks than simply playing the notes. He’d found this to be true in the last battle with Yīn. Something to be used as a last resort, and this did feel like that sort of moment.

Something felt different about this attack than in the last encounter, and his sensitive ears were quickly picking up on it. The sound almost buzzed to a point where he could nearly feel it shake his bones. There was qi baked into this attack like she was using the sword as a means to emphasize her own cicada songs.

He could feel Shāng leaning up against him to keep him upright. The deep guttural notes of the sword were cracking the land around them. There was no chance for either of them to move yet.

“This buzzy bitch is nuts!” Líng Yá complained. “What do you want to do, man?”

“Seems I have no choice.” He shifted the strings on the pipa carefully, letting the upbeat tune fill his soul. The notes were quickly countering the shaking attack as he began to sing the first notes. It was one of his favorites, one that had taken on new meaning since he found his own path in this world.

“ _ With an armor called sorrow, _

_ Sheath the heart: His/Story. _

_ Just familiarizing with the heat—period, _

_ Is to forfeit one’s freedom. _ ”

Làng curled his back leg, supporting himself against the pressure of the sonic sword’s attack as he belted out the song’s words. The power of the sword was intense, and it could very well take every ounce of qi he had to counter its effects. But he only intended to be the distraction.

“What are you waiting for, man?!” Líng Yá fussed at Shāng. “Take care of that cicada freak!”

Shāng nodded. The sooner they could deal with Yīn Xiàtiān, the better. She was causing far too much trouble with this sword and the massive number of cicadas still pouring out of the ground. Mù was somewhere on the other side, still fighting, so he’d do everything he could to end this battle before both his companions collapsed from exhaustion.

He leapt out from behind Làng’s barrier, dodging the errant sonic attacks and cicadas that swarmed off from the wall. He slashed at them, the qi extending well beyond the wooden blade. He was able to cut down their numbers but there were so many this would take more work than he thought bugs could ever be.

Yīn was focused purely on Làng and his song instead of whatever the other two were doing. The cicadas would chew them to pieces while she focused on what mattered to her more than the other two. “Sing for me, my dear Wū Yáo~!” She swung the sword at him with more fervor, the deep sound crashing into the ground.

That next attack drove Làng’s feet further into the ground. To think she would go to such lengths just to hear him sing. His voice was such trouble most of the time, but perhaps he could use this to his advantage. She was focused solely on him, but how long could he keep this up? His voice did have a limit, at least before it manifested its supernatural power. He recalled falling ill, his mother beating him then trying to nurse him back to health. His voice was gone, his music stolen from him until he awoke well after the sickness.

“ _ Even so, without expecting it, I felt warmth… _

_ Recompose. Let’s search for tomorrow. _ ”

That was when his mother died, unable to recognize the change that manifested after the sickness. That curse of a voice that perhaps he could use for something else. He was his own blade after all, no longer to be used by anyone especially not some cicada assassin who wanted to cage him up again.

He stabilized himself by dropping to a knee, feeling the ground around the shield crack as the sounds attacked.

Shāng turned for a moment. Làng’s qi wouldn’t last forever, and he wasn’t sure how long his voice would either. Did a supernatural voice have limits? He wasn’t certain he wanted to find out. He sheathed his sword, using qi to rise scattered leaves up into the air and turn them into razor sharp daggers. Silently he sent the daggers towards Yīn.

The cicadas moved from their buzzing wall, protecting the assassin while she had her attention turned towards Làng.

Scoffing, he found the pieces of the shattered trees and sent them on their way as well. He didn’t see much in the way of an opening just yet, but he noticed something vital. Yīn was wearing down with these multiple points of battle. She had to maintain the cicada wall as well as funnel her qi through the blade to force Làng to sing for her. She was fighting on three fronts right now, and even an elite assassin would find this taxing.

“Làng! Keep it up!” Shāng shouted, dodging a line of cicadas that more closely resembled a spear. They could wear Yīn down, but that could also wear the three of them thin. Even Shāng himself had his limits. The question was, who would fall first? 

Làng nodded, continuing his song despite the pressure defending against the sword was putting on him. Shāng was up to something, and Làng would trust him to do what was needed. He could feel the song wearing on him. He’d need an entire basket of dumplings to recover from how much qi he was exerting.

“ _ My life goes by like passing clouds, _

_ Departed the days I will be proud. _

_ My own footprints shall become history. _ ”

Even above the buzzing, Mù could hear Làng’s voice ring out and reach her. He was fighting with everything he had, singing a song with such soul she could feel it as well. She would too, of course. As if a bunch of bugs would take her down. She just had to find a way around them, to get to Yīn while she wasn’t looking.

Sooner rather than later. She was feeling less energetic than usual. These cicadas were sapping her strength somehow. This was the weakness Làng said he felt in his knees, wasn’t it? These cicadas. They were draining her strength, much as they had drained his. This would make things more difficult than anticipated. She dropped to a knee, drawing the sword across the strings to attack in large arcs. As they attempted to approach from behind, she turned, striking out against them. They felt like they were approaching faster but perhaps she was slowing down.

Those companions certainly were causing far too much trouble. Yīn wasn’t fond of these three-way attacks at all, especially against three strong opponents like she was now. She only wanted to hear her songbird sing, and these other two were making a mess of things! They were fighting back against her, trying to hold out longer than she was. It was immensely taxing to handle all three points at once, but she still had one more option. Outstretching her hand, she summoned the Sorrowful Soul, slashing it at Shāng. It was time she forced their hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun story about the origins of Yīn's attacks. When I was a kid, I lived in the southeast US. Cicadas were common in the summer. As kids, you tell each other stupid things. Well someone decided to tell the story that cicadas were actually vampiric bugs. If you ever saw one, it would sap your strength and suck your blood! They also leave the husks of their victims on trees!
> 
> Of course my dumb kid self believed this at the time and was terrified of the dead cicada shells I would sometimes see in the gutters or stuck to trees. I learned better later, but that dumb story has stuck to me to this day. What if cicadas could steal qi? Now that is a power fitting for an assassin.


	18. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Struck with a malice-inducing sword, Shang turns against his companion, and Yin is delighted.

The Sorrowful Soul hit him through the swarm of cicadas. Shāng Bù Huàn felt it reverberate through his body, twisting his mind and heart into a knot. Even as many battles as he’d seen with dangerous swords, this one definitely was the worst. It was planting thoughts in his mind that weren’t his own. They were dark and malicious thoughts he knew he would never have otherwise, but they felt like an uncontrollable urge. He felt like his body was shaking, the grip on his sword so tight that he thought his hand might bleed.

Desperate women with dangerous swords were indeed a bad combination.

Yīn Xiàtiān laughed shrilly, tapping the sonic sword on her shoulder as she observed her handiwork. “Well well well, the great sword hunter taken down by a single sword swipe! Why didn’t I think of it sooner!” It was a brilliant plan. She could have Shāng carry out the battle while she regenerated her strength by focusing on the cicadas alone. That other musician chick was nearly down anyway, so she hardly would be a threat.

Làng Wū Yáo grit his teeth. This went from bad to worse  _ fast _ . Handling the strain on his voice was one thing, facing off against his friend was another. He knew from the spar that Shāng was stronger, his qi mastery much more refined. And that was when Shāng was  _ holding back _ .

Làng sprang to his feet, leaping away from the damaged land. He couldn’t hear the sounds of Mù fighting beyond the cicadas anymore, but he had to focus on the new problem. Shāng’s steps were uneasy and strained as he turned his attention to Làng, but there was something off.

There was no malice.

The Sorrowful Soul incited malice in whoever it struck, and Shāng didn’t show signs of it. He was fighting against it, his steps staggered as he grasped his shoulder. His head was down, his long hair falling into his face. He gripped his wooden sword tightly with his other hand as he whipped it backwards into a battle stance, the qi knocking the shattered trees back towards the pathway.

Just how long could Shāng fight the effects before he truly turned against his new friend?

“I wonder what he really thinks of you, my dear Wū Yáo~” Yīn Xiàtiān taunted. “Does he wish to have your song for himself? Perhaps he despises you for the trouble you must attract with your voice. Are you willing to take that risk or will you kill him yourself?”

Làng tightened his grip on Líng Yá. In the short time he’d known Shāng, he knew that to not be true. He sensed the good in his companion, even if they had first fought as enemies. Shāng had said some harsh words after that, called him a supernatural blade much like the swords he sought to seal, and it was true. That’s what Làng really was. But when he had said it, there was no malice behind his words, and he was happy when Làng had chosen to come out of the mountains and fight alongside them.

Shāng and Mù had helped Làng when he needed it the most, when his ear was assaulted by a cicada screaming loudly. Anyone else would’ve abandoned him and left him to die. Right now, they needed Làng’s help in return.

Nothing Yīn said would convince him otherwise despite the qi slash now barrelling towards him. Làng knew how Shāng fought. He’d sparred with him in that mountain thicket. Right now, Shāng was absolutely restraining his movements.

But even restrained, Shāng’s movements had such power behind them as he dashed forward, striking several times at Làng. Each time, the musician blocked the attack with the pipa.

Làng swung at him with a kick to try to force separation. Each time he could push Shāng backwards, but his friend was right back with another attack. Làng dodged the swipes, almost finding himself struck in the gut by an elbow just like he was in the forest. This one packed a lot more qi behind it than in the spar, and a strike could explode his insides.

Shāng was losing control.

Làng dodged another sword blast, leaping into the air. But even under the sword’s influence, Shang was crafty in battle. He grasped the edges of Làng’s robes and pulled him back to the ground.

Làng pushed him away, using his foot to create separation and fire off a few sonic blasts. “Wake up!” He had to find a way to awaken his friend. He still wasn’t certain how the Sorrowful Soul affected someone or if Shāng actually could wake up, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. There had to be a way to reverse its effects, and right now, singing wasn’t exactly an option. Shang wasn’t affected by his supernatural voice.

“He’s not letting up!” Líng Yá warned.

Like he hadn’t noticed. Làng frowned as Shāng dashed forward once more. He struck several times, Làng blocking with the pipa each time. The strikes were sharp and Làng felt the qi shoot past him with each movement. Deflecting them was becoming harder and harder, each one threatening to crack Líng Yá at the seams. Làng shifted his stance, deflecting the next attack and swiping at Shāng’s arm with the pipa, pushing him backwards.

Shāng skidded to a stop before leaping forward once again. He suddenly sheathed his sword, grasping Làng’s collar tightly.

“Làng... get… get the sword...” Shāng’s words were strained as he attempted to focus on Làng standing before him. His vision felt blurred, leaving him to blink far too often as he withdrew his sword once again and swung at the musician. His body felt like it was moving on its own. 

It wasn’t as though Shāng was giving him much opportunity to get the Sorrowful Soul. Làng dodged several more attacks, kicking Shāng’s hand away to try to divert the swipes. Shāng’s movements were strained and hesitant once again, keeping one hand on his sword and one hand on his shoulder.

That was it, wasn’t it? He was manipulating his own qi to try to stave off the sword’s effects.

Làng deflected the next attack by infusing Líng Yá with healing qi and driving the pipa sharply into Shāng’s shoulder and throwing him several yards back. He knew it would hurt, but it was the best chance they had. Dropping Líng Yá, he transformed the pipa into sword form and leapt up into the sky. It was rare he used such techniques, especially after how much qi he’d already exerted with using his voice as a shield, but he knew this was a last resort. He twisted in the air, fire erupting around him like phoenix wings. “Firebird in the blue sky!” The attack swirled around him, frying any nearby cicadas that attempted to encroach on him.

“No no no!” Yīn screamed. “You were supposed to be crushed by the weight of your friend trying to murder you!”

“What a crappy plan!” Líng Yá jeered in sword form. “If you really knew either of them, you’d know it failed from the start!”

Làng had to agree. It was all resting on the idea that Shāng actually had malice in his soul. The sword had managed to coerce him, but Shāng still wasn’t the malicious sort at all. He was even hesitant to kill evil people at times, something that Làng was certain would cause problems for them in the future.

Up in the air, Làng delivered several sonic slashes, the sound of his movements manifesting as a visible trail. They sliced right through the cicadas and Yīn’s arm.

Feeling the sword’s effects leave him, Shāng quickly dove for the sword, barely catching it before it disappeared into the ravine. He sighed in relief, gingerly rubbing at his shoulder. Làng certainly knew how to land a sharp hit when he meant it. Shāng was starting to wonder how much Làng was holding back in that thicket spar.

“I will not lose my songbird!” Yīn declared, raising the sonic sword over her head. She then sputtered, blood pouring down her chest. “A blade?” She stared shocked at her chest then back at Làng. He didn’t deal the final blow, did he? It came from behind.

That musician girl. That damn interferer! Yīn turned, prepared to throw one last attack at her until she found another blade had been driven through her. He’d approached so quickly when she was distracted, driving his pipa blade right through her heart. “My…. my beautiful bard….”

Làng pried the sonic blade from her hand.

Yīn drew a hand along his face, tracing his soft features. “I’m glad I could hear your song one last time.” With blood pouring from her wounds, she fell downward into the ravine, the wall of cicadas following and dispersing deep below.

Làng landed with the sonic sword in hand. He didn’t feel sorry for her at all, and why should he? Her heart had been filled with so much evil and malice, it clouded her judgments. She had become obsessive and reckless, and that was the ultimate cause of her demise.

Mù landed next to Làng, peering down the ravine. “No one could’ve survived that. I suppose she died hearing you sing after all.”

Làng wrinkled his nose. He didn’t want to give her the pleasure, but in the end, she did actually get what she wanted.

Mù and Làng helped Shāng to his feet, the latter driving some more healing qi into Shāng’s shoulder. The wound from the Sorrowful Soul healed, though Shāng still felt the sting of the pipa being driven into it.

“Let’s get rid of these terrible swords, yes?” Mù suggested.

“Couldn’t agree more.” With a quick spell, Shāng brought forth the Index, rolling it out on the ground.

They set the two swords beside it. What trouble these two swords had caused across the southern border region. Crushed towns, inexplicable brawls, unbridled malice. Then there was the battle they just had that took nearly everything they had to win.

“Good riddance!” Líng Yá commented as Shāng drew the sonic sword into the brush, carefully dripping the ink onto the Index. “Though you have all these swords at your disposal! Why not use just one? That would’ve made the battle a hell of a lot easier!”

“What’s to say if we started using them we wouldn’t end up like Yīn Xiàtiān?” Shāng replied. “Would we fall to their lure? Become reliant upon them? Or would we be like the empire and use them for malice.”

“You are not evil,” Làng pointed out.

Shāng laughed as he pulled the Sorrowful Soul into the brush. “Sorcerous swords like this are dangerous. They can change a person, usually for the worst. If we started using them as tools, even for the good of Xī Yōu, we would be no better than the empire or the people who used you as a blade to empower themselves.”

There were so many people who used him as a supernatural blade to gain things. Money, promotions, entertainment. It was always about them, leaving nothing for Làng himself in the end. “This blade knows much better now,” Làng asserted, referring to himself.

“And we’re full glad of it,” Shāng agreed, rolling up the scroll. Finally, both swords were sealed and two fewer swords in the hands of the true villains of Xī Yōu. He flicked the scroll away, peering at Làng, who smiled but also looked a bit flustered.

“You’re gonna make this guy blush with words like that!” Líng Yá insisted, a statement quickly confirmed by Làng shutting him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Shang really has 0 evil in his body. Lang looked really surprised when he saw Shang's face for the first time, like he realized this instantly with his sense of good and evil. I don't think even a sword can change Shang's true nature, much to Yin's disappointment. He's honestly just a big sarcastic goober.


	19. The Index's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with the swords sealed, will they be able to finish a dumpling meal and not get interrupted?

The peninsula town was peaceful, despite the large crack that now split the town in half. An actual crack that people were easily able to step over and not a giant ravine. The people here claimed it was the strange recent earthquakes that had caused it. They weren’t exactly wrong, just the source wasn’t natural at all.

Those swords were now sealed in the Index, away from thieving hands and malicious intent. The peninsula wasn’t known as the most loyal of imperial towns, but they were still part of Xī Yōu’s territory and any part meant that the Hunting Fox could be lurking nearby. Even if he hadn’t been seen for some time after their last clash, probably nursing some broken ribs.

They had situated themselves in a private cafe room overlooking the nearby sea. It was safer to talk about what they needed without prying eyes and ears. They had more than enough funds left over from the last town where Mù Tiān Mìng and Làng Wū Yáo had played. That bowl had been overflowing from the extended show in exchange for information.

“We’re up to 15 now. Not even half of the swords here in Xī Yōu.” With a flick of his wrist, the scroll wound shut and disappeared into the other dimension. Shāng Bù Huàn turned his attention to the serving of dumplings on the table.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us, don’t we?” Mù mused. “Any information yet?”

Shāng shook his head, “Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time before another one suddenly shows up or the Empire exerts their force on another seal shrine and just takes one.”

“Are you intending to loot the shrines before the empire?” Làng questioned.

“Definitely not,” Shāng shook his head. “As long as they’re in the shrine, they’re safe from being abused. It’s when the empire or Huò Shì Míng Huáng takes the swords that it becomes a problem.”

“It’s also possible that some of these sacred swords are duds,” Mù added. “One of the earliest ones we went after. The empire had stolen it, believing that it could command weather itself. That was the legend anyway. Turned out the sword was just some brass painted silver, the original likely long-since lost in the War of Fading Dusk.”

“There was also that one sword that turned out to be a melted metal pipe,” Shāng recalled.

“You’ve got to be kidding, man!” Líng Yá exclaimed.

“It has happened more than a few times,” Mù said, plucking another dumpling from the steamer basket. “We generally don’t pursue them until they’re removed from the shrine or some other possibly sacred location. And well, we’d rather not make enemies of the few people still trying to protect Xī Yōu. The empire is the real problem here, almost more so than Huò Shì Míng Huáng lately.”

“And they won’t really stop until all the swords are in their possession,” Shāng frowned. “Dud or not, they want to control all of them and use them for atrocities across the empire. They don’t care about the devastation as long as the people obey them.”

“To make them believe they have no other options,” Làng recalled the feeling. “That one must survive with a broken string wound around their neck or not live at all.”

Mù frowned. It was a terribly accurate description, one that would only come from someone who had suffered at the empire’s hands directly.

“And that is why we must steal the swords  _ from  _ them,” Shāng agreed. “With each one, we unwind that string just a bit more. Eventually that string will be gone and the empire will no longer have the sorcerous power available to use.”

“And now with the Index, it’ll be much harder to get those swords back once we have them,” Mù added. “Much easier than trying to stash them out of the empire’s sights. We’re certainly not trying to haul around an armory on our backs anymore.” She finished off her dumpling, unrolling a map of Xī Yōu. It marked off the regions of the empire but had the addition of each seal shrine marked. Several had Xs marked across them. “The bigger challenge right now is to predict where the Empire might strike next or an unknown sword might surface.”

“Are these all shrines?” Làng looked over the map. The battle against the demon realm had stretched across much of the original empire, eventually splitting it in two when the Wasteland of Spirits first formed. Seal shrines had been established to protect the world from the demon realm in case of a second war, but in 200 years, none had come. They now had imperial problems to handle instead.

“Some of these are abandoned or just places that are said to have large amounts of supernatural energies. Legend has it some of the locations are much older than the War of Fading Dusk. There are so many locations, but since some are duds, we’re not sure how many are real or fake,” Shāng added. “Plus we have the problem that older swords seem to just manifest out of nowhere. We’re not really sure where Huò Shì Míng Huáng or the empire gets them sometimes. But the pair we have are likely local to this region. If the legends we’ve picked up are true, the sonic sword may have originated here.” He indicated a marking at the base of the mountains just a bit north.

“The Sorrowful Soul was said to rest here in a seal shrine,” Mù pointed at a marking near the first.

“And if that’s the case, that means all the potential locations in this region have already been looted,” Shāng reasoned.

“Given that no other swords suddenly show up, we should start moving east,” Mù suggested. “Perhaps even north to the more mountainous regions to throw the Hunting Fox off our trail. Sooner or later, we’ll find some unusual phenomenon to point us in the right direction.”

Làng glanced over the map. Many of the Xs were clustered in the bordering southern regions where they currently sat. He spotted a few closer to the palace and a handful scattered about. There were a few marked locations near where he once lived. To think that a potential sword was nearby his home. If he had not left the mountains, perhaps he would’ve encountered them again and his path would’ve ultimately been the same.

He made that choice already and was truly glad he did, even with all the trouble these two swords had put him through. Shāng had asked if he felt the choice was right, saying that there was no turning back. Làng had no doubt in his mind it was the right choice. Die alone in the mountains, become a caged songbird once again, or live free and hunt evil. The choice was easy.

Something prickled at the back of his ear. Làng turned towards the window. “I hear the Hunting Fox’s voice.”

“So soon?” Shāng frowned, quickly gathering up the map and the remaining dumplings. “And here I thought we could enjoy a meal for once.”

“With what we’re doing? Unlikely,” Mù commented, plucking her guqin from its resting place. Dropping some coins on the table, she followed the pair out the door and into the alleyway. Several imperials dashed towards the restaurant where they once sat.

“Find them. Find the Sword-plundering Nemesis!”

“Well there he is,” Shāng frowned. “He sure healed from that last fight quickly.”

There was a temptation to simply leave before he noticed they were there, but Xiào Kuáng Juàn wasn’t exactly known for his mercy. He’d beat the town senseless in hopes to gain any information he could about Shāng’s whereabouts. That didn’t exactly sit right with Shāng. He opened his mouth to suggest they take the Fox out first, but Làng had already left the alleyway. “Well that answers that suggestion.”

“Well well, the Sword-plundering Nemesis, the former Court Virtuoso, and their accomplice!” Xiào pointed at the group emerging from the alleyway.

“At least you could give me a worthwhile title,” Mù mused, pulling the guqin from her back.

“Get them!” Xiào barked the command.

Not that Xiào exactly  _ got them _ . He was left lying face down in the dirt, cursing their existence as they left the town and headed on their way.

They had so many other potential swords to seal, so many threats on their path to freeing Xī Yōu from their supernatural power. Làng pulled at the strings of the pipa. His heart cried out for another song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading my first TBF fic! I wrote a few so there is another Xi You story to come next week!
> 
> I honestly thought quite a bit about how Mu and Shang operate. The current sword count is kinda rough since I guestimated (I didn't go pause the movie to say "Oh there are 13 swords on the table!" but it looked close enough, right?) and so with the two from this story, there are now 15.
> 
> And while Shang and Mu seem to be the type to "wing it" sometimes, they are also the type to have a plan. I went back and rewatched Bewitching Melody recently, and found Shang in the background several times near Mu. He was off investigating and possibly retrieving swords. They have A Plan. For my version? It's a map marking shrine locations, legends, and possibly sorcerous locations. There is one brief mention (I believe it's actually in the movie) that some of the swords are older than the War of Fading Dusk, so good luck marking all the locations, right?
> 
> Thanks again for reading this whole thing and hope to see you all in the next story that involves an insidious imperial plot, stolen memories, and misty cliffside.

**Author's Note:**

> After watching the second movie, it really had me thinking. How DID they actually build the Index? What happened during that time between Bewitching Melody of the West and Season 1? This story explores the budding friendship of the group and how much trouble mystical swords can actually cause. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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